35 Millimeters II - Behind the Lens
by Lady Aishiteru
Summary: A companion to "35 mm." Minako Aino is a very successful but lonely supermodel. Could it be that the self proclaimed goddess of love is clueless when it comes to affairs of the heart?
1. The Eye of the Beholder

35 Millimeters: Behind the Lens

35 Millimeters: Behind the Lens

By [Lady Aishiteru][1]

Part 1- The Eye of the Beholder

Misery loves company.That's what I always thought.It starts deep inside of you, a bottomless, yearning ebb, an aching ooze that needs to get out.Escape.That's when it latches onto other hapless victims and replicates.Maybe misery is lonely; as an emotion, it wants to be loved.Maybe it takes more than one person to really appreciate it, to embrace it and understand its depths.

Or maybe I've been sitting under the lights for too long.I laughed shakily and took the ragged breath into my lungs.It was poor nourishment, and very temporary, needing to be joined by another, then another.

"Are you okay, Minako?"

I looked at the cameraman and flashed him my million-dollar smile. It was the same smile that is featured on the covers of Cosmopolitan, where it seems like that's all that I'm wearing.Beautiful blonde tresses with not a hair out of place just barely hide two seemingly unnaturally perfect breasts. Then the eye is drawn lower, to a brazenly bare navel, and a silky, almost translucent dress that reveals more than it clothes.That would be my figure on display, that of Minako Aino, fabulous supermodel, the one who's always smiling on the outside.Despite the brightness of my teeth and the dimples in my cheeks, I'm not smiling on the inside.

It's the worst kind of irony, really.Someone like me should be able to have any guy she wants with the snap of her perfectly manicured fingers.And I could, but would he like the Minako Aino, famous cover girl, or the real me, the one behind all of the flashing camera bulbs and plastered smiles?Would he be too dazzled by my reputation to find out?I pondered this as I alluringly crossed and uncrossed my long legs for the next photograph.Sex would be easy to get, and possibly to give, but I don't want to make love.I want to find it.

People have always told me I was pretty, ever since I was a little girl growing up in the west side of London.You should be a model, they said.You're pretty enough.You could make it.Really.And, fool that I was, I believed them.Not that I was stupid for believing their forecasts of success, in that respect, they were right.It was the unspoken message behind the lines I bought into, enough to move out of the projects and to pose for people across the ocean.I believed the lie that being rich and famous guarantees happiness.Hell, I even lived it, but there came a point when it seemed…hollow.Empty.Meaningless.

And I'm sick of it.Damned sick, I thought, as I hailed a cab after work.That was when I washed away the makeup, and put on my disguise.The disguise, concocted by my friend, Ami, consisted of pulling my hair into the loop of a baseball cap, wearing a nearly opaque pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, baggy jeans, a ratty T-shirt and a sports jacket.I wanted to leave the cover girl behind, at least for the weekend.It was time to let my hair down, to be with people that knew the real me.Minako Aino, the woman behind the camera lens.

The cab driver stopped the car and turned around in his seat."Miss, if you don't mind my asking, why don't you keep your work clothes on?Why are you so quick to want to look like everyone else?"

I said nothing in response, just thanked him and gave him a tip."Have a nice weekend, Mr. Thomas."

"You too, miss."

I closed the door and walked away, listening to my stiletto heels clicking on the pavement as I walked towards the Soda Shoppe.It's one of the few places in Tokyo I can visit without being mobbed.The owner, Motoki Furuhata, knows me personally, and has promised not to tell his customers about me.His wife, Reika, makes sure that he keeps his end of the bargain.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" I asked, hearing the double doors whoosh shut behind me.

"Hi, Minako. Ami's just showing us this wicked cool picture she did with her and her grandma on the computer," said Usagi. 

I looked at the photo very closely.It was a picture of Ami standing next to her grandmother.Both were smiling, the kind of smile that's sincere, that reaches the eyes.If I hadn't attended the funeral, I would have sworn that Ami's grandma was still alive and breathing."Cool! You can't even tell."

"Y'know, you should do this for real, I mean, as a job," said Usagi through a mouthful of sundae.

"You think?" asked Ami.She looked kind of doubtful, but I knew that Usagi would be able to convince her otherwise.She's always been like that; warm, encouraging, friendly.Usagi is someone who's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.She has this crazy, guffaw-like laugh, and it's contagious.When she laughs, you can't help but to laugh with her.She makes people feel special just by being with them.

"I know so," said Rei.When I met Rei Hino for the first time, it was at the Cherry Hill temple.She was wearing these weird robes, like a priestess would wear.I thought she was this subdued, gentle spirited, shaman-like Shinto priestess.Well, I thought that for about ten seconds, anyways.Then she opened her mouth, and she hasn't closed it since.Even though she's gorgeous, I have the hardest time finding a date for her.She has this unfortunate tendency to push away guys that get too close.I know this one guy who would be just perfect for her, but she would never know it.

"Even that ornery cuss wad, Mamoru would like it." Rei added.

"REI!" yelled Usagi, fortunately AFTER she had swallowed her ice cream."You picking on my Mamo-chan?How many times must I tell you to LAY OFF?"

"Relax, Usako," said a deep voice."I can take care of myself.But I do appreciate the effort, beloved."

I covered my ears and waited for the inevitable, high-pitched squeal.I was not disappointed."MAMO-CHAN!" she screamed, clearing the stool she was sitting on, reaching her husband in a single bound.

"I'm happy to see you too," he said, chuckling.

They were allowed to stand there like that for all of ten seconds, when Rei decided she had enough."Get a ROOM, love-birds!You're freaking me out!"

"You're just jealous," said Usagi, sticking out her tongue from her position in Mamoru's arms.

In her classic form, Rei retorted, "Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Geez, will you two morons ACT YOUR AGE?" yelled Makoto, the karate fisted brunette of our group.

I stifled a groan.Those two have been like that since junior high, or at least that's what Ami and Makoto say. "Or at least your shoe size," I mumbled.

"I HEARD THAT!" yelled both Usagi and Rei, and Mamoru leaped backwards in fear of future hearing loss.Honestly, I don't blame the guy.It seemed like they've known each other for a thousand years, even though they didn't meet until they were both in high school.He'd married Usagi two years ago, and it's totally obvious that they're meant for each other.I let out a little sigh.Wasn't there anyone I was meant to be with?

I watched them whisper a conversation in private.I didn't hear anything they said until I heard an indignant "MAMO-CHAN!" I laughed a little, knowing he must have said something really naughty to get her going like that, and that it was making Rei very uncomfortable.

"Well, on that note, I'd better be going," I said.

"So soon?" asked Makoto. 

"Yeah.Later!"

"Bye," they all chorused.

I began the long, lonely walk to my penthouse apartment down the street.I was looking forward to going home and sitting down with a cup of herbal tea and the daily paper.Not that I'm crazy about coming home to an empty penthouse, but a bit of peace and quiet is a nice change of pace from my hectic workdays.

I breathed an audible sigh of relief when I stepped into the penthouse.No camera flashes, no pushy reporters, no annoying photographers. Just my couch, my paper, my herbal tea and me.I kicked off my sneakers, flopped down onto the couch and settled in.

For some strange reason, my attention was caught by an ad in the Classifieds.

CAT FOR SALE

1 YEAR OLD, NEUTERED MALE.VERY FRIENDLY, LOVES PEOPLE.CALL 555-0978 IF INTERESTED.

Come to think of it, having a cat would be a good idea.It might help me feel a little better.I've heard that pets can lower blood pressure and even prolong my life.Cats are said to be low-maintenance, too.

I reached for my cordless, then dialed the number.A rich baritone answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm calling about the ad you placed in the classifieds.Is your cat still for sale?"

"Yeah, but he's very special to me.I'd need to meet any potential adoptee in person."

It seemed a bit silly...after all, it was only a pet.But I put that aside for the moment."Okay, when can I set up an appointment?"

"Appointment?" The man on the other end laughed."Pfft.I get enough of those at work.I live in Juuban Heights, penthouse suite."

"Nice place.A friend of mine lives there.What time may I come?"

"Now is good."

"Ooo..kay...see you in a few minutes."I hung up the phone, and shook my head.The cat's owner must have been some kind of weirdo.Oh well...if I got a cat out of the deal, it would be worth it...right?I put my sneakers back on and drove to Juuban Heights.Mamoru lives there with Usagi and their cat, Luna, so I know the place pretty well.

As I walked into the apartment, the doorman, Ichi, greeted me."Hi, Miss A.Tell the Chibas I said hello, will you?"

I shook my head. "I would if I were going up to see them.This person lives in the penthouse."

"Ah, Kunzite.Tell him I said hello, then."

"I will, Ichi.Ja ne!"That being said, I walked in and took the elevator up to the penthouse suite.As the numbers on top showed the elevator's ascent, I wondered what kind of person lived there.Surely someone wealthy enough to live in the penthouse would be able to afford pet care.Even a few vet bills wouldn't faze them - I happen to be familiar with the price of the rent.Mamoru and Usagi said they would live there, but despite Mamoru's impressive wealth, they didn't want to pay the high cost of rent.I smiled to myself.Mamoru is such a tightwad.

I knocked on the door, expecting to meet a nutty old man.I twirled a strand of hair and waited, hoping to get this over with quickly.My experiences with elderly men have been less than pleasant.

Instead of an old coot, a gorgeous, godlike man answered the door.My jaw almost dropped to the floor.I work with male models, but they all paled in comparison to this guy. I mean...he was...unbelievable.He wore a white undershirt over a pair of jeans, which accented his triangular build.I almost wished the shirt were off...what was underneath must be incredible.His hair was shoulder length and platinum, and I guessed that it would be like silk to the touch.His eyes were an icy, pale shade of blue, almost like a winter sky."Um...hi.Are you Kunzite?"

"Yes, that would be me.How can I help you?"

"I'm here about the cat."

"Okay, come in then."He made a sweeping gesture and opened the door wider.

I looked at him briefly before entering the penthouse.Everywhere I looked, I saw boxes of all shapes and sizes.It was if his whole life was being packed up and shipped off."Are you moving?" I asked.

"Yeah.The apartment that I'm moving to doesn't allow pets."

"Ah.Why would you want to move though?This place is great."

"I dunno...I guess I felt like it was time.I was getting sick of the place."

"Oh, okay."

He gestured towards a series of medium-sized boxes in the main room."Make yourself at home," he said with a lopsided grin.I sat on top of a box and he sat on another one.

"Artemis!Here, kitty, kitty!" he called.A small white cat came running into the room.

I raised my eyebrow.What kind of name for a male cat was Artemis?Wasn't Artemis a female goddess?"Why did you name him Artemis?" I asked.

"He has this funny, crescent moon-shaped bald spot on his forehead," he explained."The name 'Artemis' seemed more masculine than Diana, so it stuck."

I looked a little more closely, and I had to admit that he was right."Ah."

"Well, I seem to be at a disadvantage.You know my name but I don't know yours."

"No," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry," I said, offering my usual consolation smile, "but I don't date male models."

Bemused, he replied, "Since when is introducing oneself an invitation to a date?A better response would have been, 'Hi, my name is so-and-so.Pleased to meet you.'"

I rolled my eyes.I mean, the man was gorgeous...what else could he be?"Sorry.My name is Minako Ai-erm…Minako."

He raised an eyebrow."Just Minako?"

"Yep.Kinda like Cher."

"Ah," he said, but I could tell by his expression that he wasn't buying it."Well, Just Minako, what makes you think you can provide a home for Artemis?"

I clenched my hands, fingernails digging into my palm.Who the hell did he think he was, anyways?What a pompous jackass!"Well, for starters, I know I can afford any vet bills that come my way.My apartment _does_ allow pets.Besides, who can resist such a cutie?" I finished, scratching behind Artemis's ears.

"Thanks for the compliment," he said, smiling."Well, he does seem to like you.Maybe you aren't such a bad match after all."

My nails dug deeper into my palms, and my body stiffened.I've encountered his type before.He was the kind of man who was gorgeous, and _knew_ it.I work with such air headed morons six days a week.I really hoped I wouldn't be seeing any more of this loser."What are you charging for Artemis?"

"Not a thing.I trust that's okay with you?" he asked.

"Peachy," I mumbled.

"Great!I'll go get his things."

"Thanks," I said curtly.I waited on the couch as I listened to the sounds of boxes being opened and rummaged through."Do you need help carrying these things to your car?"

"No thanks," I said."I can manage."

He dropped the load in front of my feet."Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"All right, then.I guess everything's settled."I picked up Artemis and placed him on my shoulder.With the other hand, I grabbed the cat carrier, which contained everything I would need to care for him except food and litter.

"Yep," he said.He looked reluctant to end our encounter.

He looked into my eyes, like he wanted to say something more.I wondered what he could have possibly been looking at...I was still in "disguise," and I knew I had to be at least a little unkempt."Well, I guess I'll be going now.Nice meeting you," I said, even though I was completely insincere.

I was still fuming as I dragged the cat carrier over to the elevator.The cat purred happily on my shoulder; he really was a sweetheart.Too bad his former owner had to be such a jerk.I would be very happy if I never saw Kunzite again.

   [1]: mailto:lady_aisheteru@hotmail.com



	2. Serendipity

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens  
By Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 2 - Serendipity  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
I whistled a tune as I walked up the steps to my penthouse.   
Even greeting the doorman was an exciting prospect. "Hi Mr. Hartman!"  
I sang cheerfully.   
  
M-miss Aino!" he stammered. "Nice to see you! Can I help you  
with the door?"  
  
Thanks!" I chirped, holding the cat carrier in one hand and   
Artemis in the other. Instead of containing a cat, the cat carrier   
held a food dish, a water dish, an old blanket, and some cat toys. I   
was thankful I hadn't felt compelled to adopt a dog; canine care is   
MUCH more complicated. I'm a busy person, and I wouldn't be able  
to properly care for a dog.   
  
I was also thankful that the elevator door was located mere   
yards away from my penthouse, but when the apartment takes up the   
entire top level, it's hard not to put an elevator nearby. At least   
modeling got me that much. As smart as cats are, I doubt Artemis   
will learn how to use the elevator.  
  
As soon as we arrived at the penthouse, Artemis leapt off my   
shoulder and made a beeline towards the bedroom. When I got to the   
door, Artemis was nowhere to be found. I groaned and took off my   
shoes. Wasn't taking care of a cat supposed to be easy? I   
stooped to my knees and began to crawl around the bedroom, heedless of  
what it was doing to my pantyhose. Every few feet I would stop and   
call out for him, with no response. "Artemis! Where are you?" Upon   
being ignored for the umpteenth time, I mumbled a string of choice   
four-letter words and lay prone on the carpet.  
  
A few moments later, a small, rough wet object stroking my   
toes assaulted me. "Artemis! That tickles!" I squealed. "Stop   
licking my foot!" He paid me no heed, and soon, I was roaring with   
laughter. "Come here, you little rascal," I said, gathering the cat   
into my arms. "Let's get you some dinner." I deposited him squarely   
on the carpet and walked towards the kitchen. Artemis soon followed,   
nails clicking on the wooden floor, tail straight up into the air.   
  
Watching Artemis eat, I wished Mom would have allowed me to  
have a pet when I was younger. I was one of those goofy kids who  
owned a pet rock. I'd scribble a pair of little round doggy eyes,   
floppy looking ears, and a black triangle as a nose. I'd name the  
rock Fido, or Fred, or Muffin...something like that. I'd tie a   
piece of yarn around Fido and drag him (it?) around the neighborhood.  
I went through three pet rocks until I decided the whole thing was   
stupid and moved on to mood rings.  
  
Having a real, flesh and blood pet was different, I   
thought as I brought his litter box into a small, unused room.   
I can't quite describe it; after all, I've only had the little   
furrball for a couple of hours. Being responsible for the care of   
another living creature, even if that creature wasn't human, made me   
feel more important somehow.  
  
I walked into the bathroom, turned on the tap and drew   
a nice, hot bath. I sank into the foamy lather and sighed   
contentedly. I loved doing that; taking a bubble bath, even when I   
didn't need one.   
  
Ami would say that it must be something about the heat, how   
the transition between cold and hot relaxes the muscles. Rei   
would add something she learned from her psych class that week.   
She'd say that I liked baths because I'm in my own private little   
corner of the world where flashing lights, photographers, agents and   
quirky hairstylists were remnants of the past. I smiled to myself.   
Leave it to Ami and Rei to add science to something as simple as a   
bath.   
  
When I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself,  
I noticed I was not alone in the bathroom. "Artemis! What are you   
doing here?" I asked. He simply mewed in response, and I stroked   
behind his ears. "What a funny little guy," I murmured. I picked  
him up in my wet arms and returned him to his room. He would have  
none of it, though. As soon as I crawled into bed, Artemis curled   
up into a furry little potato bug by my feet. Soon, we were both  
fast asleep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
After another long day at work, I rushed straight home, not   
even bothering to take off my makeup. When I finished parking my car,  
I remembered that I wanted to head down to the gym to work off some   
steam. I scrambled to the elevator and anxiously watched the numbers   
change until my floor had been reached. I hastily turned the keys to   
enter my apartment, threw on my disguise, and then I noticed that   
something didn't look quite right. I sat there on the hard wood   
floor and thought about it until my head hurt. Feeling the need for   
something cool and wet to put down my parched throat, I went to the   
fridge to grab a diet soda.   
  
It was then I realized what was wrong. In my haste to get   
home, I had forgotten to buy my groceries. Cursing, I smacked my   
forehead and grabbed my purse. Then I remembered that I originally   
had wanted to go to the gym, so I grabbed my gym bag and dragged that   
to the car.   
  
When I closed the trunk, I realized I needed the space for my   
groceries. Grumbling, I took the gym bag out of the trunk, or tried   
to, anyways. The damned thing had decided it wished to be happily   
lodged squarely in the middle. I yanked the thing with all my might,   
but it wouldn't budge. I slammed the trunk in frustration and stomped  
over to the driver's side. Could anything else go wrong today? I   
pondered that briefly as I decided I'd go to the store anyways and   
cram what I could into the back seat. Then again, I concluded, I   
probably did NOT want to know the answer to that question. If I said   
'Things couldn't possibly get any worse,' then they usually do.  
  
I pulled into the lot and right away, I saw the perfect   
parking space. There wasn't even a handicapped sticker there!   
Thanking the heavens for some good luck at last, I put the car in   
cruise control and gently coasted to my spot. Out of nowhere, this   
jerk driving a fancy car put on his or her high beams and zoomed into   
the spot. Dammit, that was MY spot! I scanned the parking lot for   
another space, but the best available spot was on the opposite side of  
the lot. "Great," I mumbled. "Just great." I slammed the door and   
wearily crossed the parking lot on foot. At least I was wearing   
comfortable sneakers.  
  
After what seemed like miles to my poor, tired heels, I   
entered the double doors. Fortunately, I had remembered my list. I   
took it out of my purse, grabbed a shopping cart and tucked my pen   
behind my ear. I was feeling better by then, and reasoned that   
nothing else could possibly go wrong that night.  
  
When I arrived at the produce section, I cursed my flawed   
logic. I spotted a platinum blond head amongst the pineapples, and my  
brain shifted into a panicked state of denial. It was just an old   
lady...right? Could it be a really tall old lady? Then my instincts   
kicked in, reminding me that old women don't have broad shoulders, and  
most of them don't go around wearing J Crew turtlenecks. Still, it   
couldn't possibly be him...could it? I chewed my lower lip in   
frustration, and my worst fears were affirmed when the 'old lady'   
turned around and looked right at me. Dammit, it was him! God did   
not love me that day.  
  
"Hello, Minako," he said, smiling broadly.  
  
"Hi...Kunzite," I said, gritting his name out of a tightly   
clenched jaw.  
  
"Imagine meeting you here. Why are you shopping so late?" he   
asked.  
  
"Fewer people that way," I responded, my jaw still wired shut.  
  
"Ah." He didn't speak for a while, and I assumed that he had   
forgotten about me.   
  
Left to my own devices, I peered into his shopping cart. I   
saw nothing but junk food. I mean, this guy can eatlike an eight year   
old and still be Mr. Hard Body, but I have to eat food that tastes   
like cardboard to look like I do. Sure, I could get away with   
occasional bad nutrition in any other career; I would't get fat, I   
would look...ordinary. And models are not allowed to look ordinary.  
  
"Hn....Lucky Charms, Fruit Roll-ups, Kool-Aid, Mallowmars and   
Snickers? Got any food in there?" I asked.   
  
"Go pick on someone else's grocery list," he said.  
  
"You're gorgeous, you know. Of course, people have been   
telling you that for years." I put my hand on the side of my face as   
if a deep thought was manifesting itself. "I mean, do you even try   
to eat right? Or do you live on sugar cubes?"  
  
"So, does this mean you'd like to go out for a cup of coffee?"  
  
"Kiss my ass!" I yelled, attracting the stares of everyone   
around me.   
  
"I'd watch my language if I were you. This is a family   
supermarket," he said, a shocked expression on his face.   
  
My eyes narrowed in anger, and I clenched my fists. I left   
him with a whisper of my own, "Rot...in..Hell, you prude!" Barely   
able to resist slapping that stupid grin off his face, I stormed away   
in a fit of rage. Just when I thought I couldn't possibly hate him   
any more, the jackass had sunk to a new low. 


	3. A Model Citizen

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens  
By Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 3 - A Model Citizen  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"Hey, Minako, you have got to try this," said Rubina, my hair   
stylist. "It's just...wild. I had one two days ago, and I haven't   
slept since."  
  
"What's that, heroin?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Rubina   
was always latching onto the latest drug fad. Honestly, I worry about  
that kid.   
  
"Nah. This stuff's new, bona-fide," she said, grinning   
widely. "It's called 'Ecstasy,' and it lives up to its name. I   
could hook you up. First hit is on me."  
  
"No, thanks," I said politely.   
  
"Man," she said, scoffing. "You are such a goody-two shoes,   
Minako. Don't you have any fun?"  
  
"Not your kind, hon. Your kind of fun is liable to get you   
killed."  
  
"Aw, you're just jealous," she said. "Quit acting like my   
mom."  
  
My hands clenched into tight little fists at the mention of   
motherhood. I winced as a sharp pain manifested itself. I turned my   
palms over and rolled my eyes. My fake nails had drawn blood...again.  
"Damn!" I thought. "That's the third time this week!"   
  
I guess it's a nervous habit I've developed during my career.  
I don't really mean to do it; at least that's what I tell myself.   
Maybe it's something I do to distract me from the stress level of my   
job. I know it's not that bad; it's like biting your nails. Still,   
it's then that I usually ask myself why on Earth I still have this   
stupid job. I mean, I hate being a supermodel. I hate the attention,  
the constant media bombardment. I usually manage to avoid it by   
disguising myself, but every now and then some jerk pops out of a bush  
and snaps a picture. Actually, that happens often. I'll have to get   
a new disguise. Maybe a wig would help.  
  
So why do I keep this job? It's to support my mother, Itami.  
She should be able to care for herself at her age, but she never   
managed to get a handle on that. She is manic-depressive and   
alcoholic. After all these years, she never sought treatment for her   
illnesses, even after she was diagnosed. It didn't matter how many   
times I begged her to. I still do, but she doesn't listen. She never  
did.  
  
Growing up, my mom and I lived in a series of small flats in   
England. She had this job as a magazine writer, and when she was in   
her manic phase, she was full of energy. Mom would sit at her   
typewriter and just type for days straight. She was like some kind of  
superwoman. She didn't eat, sleep or sit still for more than five   
seconds. The downside was that she got angry easily, so I was very   
careful around her then. It was then that I began to wonder if she   
was really human.  
  
Mom would make me these delicious lunches, and send me off to   
school. She would get me up in the mornings and make me breakfast.   
She'd smile and listen to me tell her about my day at school, how many  
boys I had to fend off, how many fights I had inadvertently started.   
In those days, she was almost like a real mother, the kind you see in   
those gardening magazines.  
  
Then came the bad times. Mom would inevitably crash, and she   
couldn't be approached for weeks at a time. She would sit on the   
couch, legs open, a bottle of whiskey pressed between. It was then   
that I'd have to face the angry editors, and tell them Mom would have   
the articles in soon. The money would dry up, the magazine would fire  
her, and we'd have to move again.  
  
One month, she was fine, the next she was dead drunk and   
passed out on the floor. From one day to the next, I never knew which  
side of Mom I would see, the good one, who made oatmeal cookies and   
braided my hair, or the bad one, who cursed at the TV and lived on   
hard liquor. Mom would get an animalistic glint in her eyes; the same  
look that made my heart pound in my throat and my blood run cold. I   
would run into my bedroom, lock the door, and just sit there, holding   
myself, sobbing brokenly. I didn't tell anyone how scared I was for   
years. Deep down, I was afraid that the authorities would ship her   
away to a mental institution. I've seen how the mentally ill are   
treated in all of the movies: "The Snake Pit," "One Flew Over The   
Cuckoo's Nest." It's like they're lab rats or something. Maybe   
somewhere underneath all of those layers of hurt and hostility there   
was a speck of love. Maybe that's why I put up with her.   
  
Life went on like this in cycles until I was thirteen, when   
she had lost all ability to cope with life. Eventually, her alcohol   
failed to give comfort to her troubled mind. It was then that my   
worst enemy became my best friend; my natural beauty. Boys would   
fight over me constantly. It didn't even matter if I showed any   
interest whatsoever. I couldn't help it; I was born pretty.   
  
While the male population sought me after like a goddess, I   
was hated with equal fervor by the other gender. Every time I tried   
to say hello, they would ignore me and walk away. When they didn't   
think I could hear them, they would whisper things like "whore" and   
"slut," even though I in no way lived up to either label. I was   
always accused of stealing someone's boyfriend, but I never went   
after anyone. To this day, I think they were jealous of all the   
attention I was getting. I grew to hate it after awhile. Then I just  
wanted to be left alone.  
  
My big break didn't come until I was thirteen. I was sitting   
on the curb one day, chewing peach-flavored bubble gum. I remember   
the conversation like it was yesterday.  
  
A man in an impeccable three-piece suit approached me. I   
wondered what he was doing in a neighborhood like mine; this   
particular flat was pretty slummy. "Hi, I saw you while I was   
crossing the street." He spoke in a strange, staccato accent, which I  
later learned was Japanese.   
  
I nodded and allowed the stranger to continue. "I took one   
look at you and I said to myself, 'This is the one, the girl I've been  
looking for. The girl of my dreams.'"  
  
I raised my eyebrows at the man. "Aren't I a little young for  
you?"   
  
"Oh, you misunderstand me. I represent a famous modeling   
agency."  
  
"Which one?" I was pretty skeptical at this point; anyone can  
claim to be from an agency. It had always been my dream to be a   
model. It was like a bit of light in my world of darkness. *I used   
to get up early on Saturdays, before Mom woke up, and sneak off to the  
magazine shop. When I was sure that nobody was looking, I'd tiptoe up  
to the modeling trade rack, and grab a few magazines off the shelf.   
I'd run into a corner and devour everything I saw in them with my   
eyes. I'd sit there for hours, my fingers running over the glossy   
pages. I'd picture myself on the cover, smiling brightly. Models   
always looked so happy and well off. All they had to do was wear the   
right clothes, use the right product, and people fell in love with   
them. They didn't have mothers who yelled at them for no reason or   
have to tiptoe over broken glass. Their lives were so amazingly   
easy; at least that's what I thought at the time.   
  
Since I spent so much time reading modeling magazines, I knew   
by heart which agencies were real, and which ones were fakes. Often,   
a man saying he represents a modeling agency uses that as a gateway   
to sexually offensive behavior. I'd seen it on the news, and I was   
about ten seconds from making a run for it. I wasn't about to become   
a statistic.  
  
The man laughed. "No, I represent Tokyo Inc."  
  
I gasped. "THE Tokyo Inc.? Prove it."  
  
He pulled out his business card and smiled. "I like your   
spunk. You'll go far. My name is Li Komodachi. My number is on the   
card. I'll be in touch." With that, the stranger walked across the   
street and out of my line of vision. I kept staring at the card, not   
believing that this could be true. I actually pinched myself because   
I thought I was dreaming.   
  
Still, I was desperate enough to try anything. Mom was in the  
hospital after a nearly successful suicide attempt. I found her lying  
on the floor in between two empty bottles, both resting on their   
sides. One had contained vodka and the other a month's worth of a   
prescription sleep aid. I knew that Tokyo Inc. was actually located   
in Tokyo, Japan, and I was getting pretty sick of life in England. I   
came into her hospital room as soon as she was released from the   
intensive care unit and showed the business card to her. She took the  
card into her shaky hand, and then she carried on and on about how our  
ship had finally come in. I rolled my eyes; I was already too   
hardened to believe in some stupid pipe dream.  
  
The next few years of my life were a whirlwind of contract   
signings, photo shoots and job offerings. I became giddy with the   
prospect of no longer being poor. Even though I was well on my way to  
gaining professional respect, I honestly didn't give a damn what other  
people thought about me anymore. That was when I met Usagi.   
  
I was sitting by myself at the lunch table, a habit I had long  
since become accustomed to. She came up to me and invited herself to   
sit. I raised my eyebrows at her. I had seen her talking to Umino,   
the biggest gossip in Juuban, and pointing at me. I figured she   
couldn't possibly be for real. I listened to her prattle on like she   
had known me for years, her odangos bouncing as if to punctuate each   
sentence. Soon, Ami and Makoto joined us. What struck me most about   
the group was that they were genuine and honest.   
  
With the exception of Usagi, we were all kindred spirits for   
some reason or another. Makoto was too tall. She stuck out like a   
sore thumb, wearing her green uniform because Juuban's were always a   
few sizes too small. Due to her size, she got this reputation for   
being this crazed kung-fu freak. Although she loved to work out, I   
never saw her as being vicious.   
  
For Ami, her social downfall was her brains. She would always  
be at least three chapters ahead in every subject, and she would ace   
every test without even trying. She knew the answer to every question  
a teacher asked, and her nose was often lodged firmly in a book.   
  
I met Rei later on, since she didn't go to the same school as   
the four of us. Like I said earlier, I met her at the Hikawa shrine.   
Later, I learned that her father basically abandoned her after her   
mom's death and pretty much threw her into her grandpa's lap. He was   
a strict Catholic, and he sent Rei to St. Mary's, a Catholic school   
downtown. Although Rei is popular in that school; the St. Mary's kids  
respect her, and almost worship her. But her real friends were always   
the four of us, because she felt like she could be herself in our   
presence. Her dad's lack of parenting is probably the reason why she   
doesn't trust men.   
  
While her father was merely absent, mine was like a ghost. In  
my life, "father" was only a word, an ominous label lurking in the   
darkness. My mother never mentioned him to me once, and I don't even   
know what he looks like. To this day, I don't know what has become of  
him.  
  
Usagi, Makoto, Ami and Rei became the first real friends I   
have ever known. They kept me sane, and didn't care one bit that I   
was a model. Usagi thought it was cool; she would often bring the   
other girls to my shoots. Makoto and Ami came with her at first, and   
were later joined by Rei. They would sit in director chairs and watch  
me at work. They made these really funny faces, and I had to work   
hard to keep a straight expression, or I would ruin the shot.   
  
If it weren't for them, I would have gone the route of every   
other model: wild parties, underage sex, massive drugs and dying face   
down in the gutter. Sometimes on the weekends, we would all get   
dressed up in clothes I had "borrowed" from work, and then we would   
all go to model parties. It was wild fun. The girls would all   
pretend that they were also models and got the guys to pay for our   
food. We'd drink diet soda and laugh until our stomachs hurt.   
Eventually, Ami would remind us of the time and we'd all go to Usagi's  
house and have a sleepover.   
  
I know it sounds weird, a model going to sleepovers with   
normal kids, but those were really the best times of my life.   
Thinking about it still brings a smile to my face.  
  
"Minako? Did you hear me?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, sorry, I must have zoned out again." I said. "Is   
it time for the shoot already?"  
  
Rubina nodded and ushered me off. I squared my shoulders and   
stepped into another day of work.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
I was dog-tired when the day finally decided to end. After   
adding a wig to my disguise, I made a beeline for the taxi. I could   
hardly wait to get to the Soda Shoppe and see my friends. I really   
missed them, even though it had only been a day since I had seen them   
last.  
  
"Hi, guys. What's going on?" I asked.  
  
"Nothing much," replied Usagi. "We were just sitting down to   
eat."  
  
"Cool," I said.  
  
"Minako, I have to ask. What's with the wig?" asked Rei,   
raising her eyebrows.  
  
"Those damned tabloid reporters have really been getting on my   
case lately. I figured this might throw them off...for a week or two,  
anyways," I said, grinning wryly.  
  
"Ah. Makes sense," said Rei. I was about to open my mouth to  
speak when she added, "Red really isn't your color, though."  
  
I stuck my tongue out at her. She always has to get the last   
word in.  
  
"Hey Ames!" Usagi said her seat. "How's business going?"  
  
"You've asked her that every day, you meatball head. She   
probably doesn't want to talk about her job!" said Rei.  
  
"I don't mind at all," Ami said, smiling "I love my job."  
  
Usagi shot Rei a smug look, and then turned again to face Ami.  
"Any interesting customers?"  
  
"No...not really," Ami said sheepishly.   
  
I knew that look. Ami was hiding something. Whenever Ami   
lies, she turns as red as a tomato. If my hunch was right, which it   
usually is, and then she had met a really amazing guy.   
  
"Come on, Ames. Who is he?" I asked.  
  
"What makes you think it's a guy?" asked Makoto.   
  
"I KNOW these things, minna," I said triumphantly.  
  
"Oh yeah," Makoto said, rolling her eyes. "The self-proclaimed  
Goddess Of Love is at it again."   
  
"Well, have I ever been wrong before?" I demanded.  
  
At this, the other three looked down at their hands, not   
wanting to admit that I was right. As botched as my own love life is,  
I'm really good at pairing off my friends. I had helped to set up   
Usagi and Mamoru. I knew that their constant verbal sparring covered   
up a deep-seated affection when everyone else thought that they hated   
each other. I knew that Makoto was secretly in love with her best   
friend, Nephrite, even though she had vehemently denied it. I'm   
working on getting Rei hooked up with this really hot blond, Jadeite.   
She's so stubborn, though, that she doesn't even know she likes him   
yet. I've seen how she stares at him when she thinks nobody's   
looking.   
  
I'd never meddled in Ami's love life before because I didn't   
think she was interested in romance. She had never talked about boys   
before, and whenever we had brought up the subject in the past, she   
said we should get back to studying.  
  
"So there," I said, arms akimbo. "Anyways, you're not fooling   
anyone. I know that look...you're hiding something." I said, shaking   
my index finger at my beet red friend.  
  
"Out with it, chicka," said Usagi.  
  
"Yeah, Tokyo wants to know," added Makoto.  
  
"All right, all right. He said his name was Zoisite."  
  
"What does he look like?" I asked.  
  
"Well, he is one of my clients, so I have his picture in my   
car. Want me to go get it, minna?"  
  
"Hai!" chorused everyone except Rei, who silently sipped her   
soda.  
  
When Ami returned to our table, she was still pretty flushed.  
"What took you?" asked Usagi.  
  
"Yeah, is he a dog or something?" asked Makoto.  
  
Ami fiddled with a manila folder she was holding when a male   
voice said "So these are your friends, Ami?"  
  
My jaw practically hit the table. He was almost as sexy as   
Kunzite...well, if Kunzite wasn't a complete ass, anyways. He had the  
same triangular build and long, wavy blond hair that he had pulled   
into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a deep   
shade of green, like an evergreen tree. I noticed the way he was   
looking at Ami and I mentally congratulated my friend.   
  
"Quiet bunch, eh?" remarked the man.  
  
"Minna, this is Zoisite. He's one of my clients. Zoisite, this  
is Usagi, Minako, Makoto and Rei," said Ami. "They're not always this   
quiet," she added.   
  
"I see," he said. "Mind if I join you ladies?"   
  
"Not at all," I said, once I regained my powers of speech.   
Ami glared daggers in my direction, but I merely winked back. Zoisite   
pulled up a chair across from Ami, next to Rei.   
  
"Hi, would you all like to order?" asked the waitress.  
  
Just then, Mamoru walked over to the table. "Hey ladies," he   
said.  
  
"Hi, Mamo-chan," said Usagi. "We were just getting ready to   
order."  
  
"Great!" he said, pulling up a chair besides his wife. "I'll   
have a double cheeseburger, heavy on the mushrooms, no pickles."  
  
"Mamo-chan, you are so predictable. I could set my watch by   
you," said Usagi, smiling.  
  
Mamoru shrugged his shoulders, used to his wife's gentle   
teasing.  
  
"So this is the wife you've been raving about, Mamoru?"  
  
He nodded and slid his arm around Usagi possessively. "Yes."  
  
"You know him?" asked Usagi.  
  
"We work together," said Zoisite. "I'm on the same team as   
Kunzite, Jadeite and Nephrite."  
  
"Otherwise known as the Four Generals," elaborated Mamoru, the  
proud, successful CEO of Chiba Electronics Inc. "They're all my vice   
presidents."   
  
"Better watch out, Mamoru, or we'll pull a coup d' etat," said  
Zoisite, laughing.  
  
Mamoru rolled his eyes. "But I thought you were involved in   
electronics? Why do you have four generals?" asked Ami.  
  
"We're not really generals, Ami. It's a nickname, because   
we've been known to attack the competition. We're in charge of   
different departments. Nephrite is in charge of sales, I head   
marketing, Kunzite is our Human Resource director, and Jadeite covers   
customer relations."  
  
"I see," Ami said, smiling. I wasn't so thrilled, though. My  
initial reason for rejecting Kunzite that I thought he was a male   
model, was false. I felt somewhat foolish, but I still pitied Mamoru   
for having to work with the jerk. I seriously questioned Mamoru's   
logic in hiring such an antisocial idiot for human resources.  
  
I wished that Kunzite had his co-worker's winning personality.  
He was witty, charming and eloquent. Even Rei liked him. I noticed   
that he kept stealing covert glances at Ami. She was lucky to have   
such a cool guy. I wondered if she was aware of it yet.  
  
"Well, I'm stuffed," said Zoisite, stretching his arms over   
his head. He took out his credit card and Mamoru shook his head.   
  
"It's on me, Zoi."  
  
"I should have known," he said, laughing. "Gee, Mamoru, if you  
keep up this wild spending, you might go broke."  
  
"Yeah, in 345 years," said Mamoru.  
  
We all split up and I began to head to my car. "He's hot,   
Ami-chan," I whispered, winking at her.  
  
Ami said nothing in response, just smiled that smile of hers   
that spoke volumes. "After you," Zoisite said, holding open the   
restaurant door for her.  
  
"Thanks," she said. Although she had tried to be curt, I   
noticed warmth in her voice. I watched Zoisite follow Ami to her car.  
  
I stepped into my own car and let out a loud sigh. At least   
I had Artemis to come home to. That made me feel better, and I smiled  
the whole drive home.  
  
I walked into my apartment and checked my answering machine.   
I wasn't surprised that there were a lot of messages, which were   
mostly from work. Every now and then, a rabid fan trickled through,   
but I generally screen them out with caller ID. At the end of the   
messages, I shocked to hear a familiar voice.  
  
"Hey, it's me, Kunzite. I was wondering if I could see you   
again soon. Call me back when you get the chance."  
  
I rolled my eyes at his egotistical nonsense and walked   
towards the bathroom. No sooner did I step into the bathtub than I   
heard the phone ringing. "Damn!" I said. "Never fails."  
  
I picked up the phone and let out an irritated "Hello?"  
  
"Hey there."  
  
I groaned. "Kunzite," I returned.  
  
"So, did you get my message?"  
  
"Yeah. How on earth did you get my phone number?" I demanded   
angrily. I was seriously considering changing it at that point.  
  
"Mamoru gave it to me at work. Did I mention I worked with   
him? He seemed to know you pretty well."  
  
I smacked my head. What else did Mamoru tell him? I prayed   
to God that he didn't know where I lived. "Yeah, I know you work for   
him. So what do you want?"  
  
"I was thinking that we had gotten off to a bad start. Can I   
take you out to dinner sometime?" he asked.  
  
"I'd rather kiss a porcupine," I returned, slamming the phone   
down on its hook. The phone rang again, but I didn't answer it. I   
knew it was Kunzite. I yanked the phone off the hook, and then rubbed  
my hands together fiendishly. "That ought to do it," I thought. I   
fed Artemis, who had missed me immensely, then finished my bath and   
went to bed.   
  
"Man, this guy was persistent." I murmured to myself before   
falling into a deep sleep. I had yet to find out how right I was.  
  
  
* This idea came from Redhawke, a friend of mine. 


	4. What Lies Beneath

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II - Behind the Lens  
By Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 4 - What Lies Beneath  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I woke up with a splitting headache. It felt like a hundred   
angry monkeys were pounding on my head, and my skull seemed intent on   
caving in. I rolled over and hit the snooze button on my alarm clock.  
It was five thirty a.m., far too early for any sane individual to be   
awake. I pulled the quilted down covers up over my face and closed my  
eyes tight. I hate getting up early with a passion. It's not fair.   
  
"Not even the sun rises before six o' clock, so why should I?"  
I grumbled into my bed sheets. "I don't have to get up to work for   
another hour, so why did I set my alarm clock at five thirty?" The   
mystery continued to plague me until the alarm went off again fifteen   
minutes later. Then I remembered why I set my alarm for that god-  
awful hour; I had an appointment with Kunzite. I hoisted myself out   
of bed, much to Artemis's disdain; he had been asleep by my feet.  
  
Well, that's not exactly true. I didn't bother making one. I  
figured anyone as brainless as Kunzite would have a moron for a secre-  
tary. And morons are easily seduced. "Seduction," I thought, licking  
my lips for effect. "I can do that. This should be a small task for   
the Goddess of Love." I wished that only my anti-male persuasions   
were as effective, for this would be It, the day I would convince   
Kunzite to leave me alone forever.  
  
I pictured it in my mind. I would march right past his dim-  
witted secretary, then straight into his office. I would put on my   
angriest face, the one I reserved for potential threats. I would   
walk up to his desk, and I would be damned if I let him talk me out of  
it.   
  
The seemingly endless barrage of orange and yellow roses had   
to stop, and it had to stop NOW. The building I lived in was   
beginning to look as if a bulldozer had pushed an entire garden's   
worth of flowers into my front door. And to make matters worse, every  
time I would try to get rid of a dozen or so, someone would ask me who   
they were from. I'd mumble something unintelligible under my breath,   
deposit the flowers, and run like hell. There was no way I would   
accept anything from that jerk.  
  
I rummaged through my closet and found an appropriately   
revealing dress. It was a multi-colored, floor length dress made of   
chiffon and silk. Two large pieces of fabric crisscrossed over my   
chest and trailed off into billowy, translucent ribbons in the back,   
which stopped just short of the base of my spine. The fabric started   
off as crimson, then gradually turned into a bright yellow as it faces  
my back. A layer of crimson chiffon covers the rest, which is yellow   
satin. It was one of my favorite dresses, and guaranteed to stun.  
  
I put my hair up in a French twist, and put matching golden   
combs in my hair on either side. Levina, one of my hairstylists at   
Tokyo Inc, taught this particular kind of French twist to me. I was   
shooting my very first ad, and I was wearing the same kind of dress I   
had just put on. Levina had carefully combed, teased and spritzed my   
hair until it framed my face perfectly. Rubina had applied to my face  
a subtle combination of eye shadow, lip liner, mascara, blush and   
foundation that brings out my best features.   
  
As the final touch of blush had been applied, Rubina stepped   
back to view me, her masterpiece. "Something's missing," Rubina had   
mused, her hand placed pensively on her jaw. It was one of the rare   
instances of lucid thought I have seen in her.   
  
"What do you think, Levina?" I asked, grinning playfully.   
"Am I done yet?"  
  
Levina put down the blow dryer and stepped back a few paces,   
where Rubina was. "No. I'm going to have to side with Rubina on this  
one." she said, smiling her lopsided smile. For some reason, Levina's  
smile had always tilted upwards on the left side of her face.   
  
"Aw, man! Two against one! That's unfair, you guys!"  
  
I remember seeing Rubina stand silently there for a moment,   
then realization lit up her features like a Christmas tree. "I know!"  
  
"The earrings!" Levina had squealed. I've heard Ami say that   
twins may have some kind of telepathic abilities, where they can   
transmit their thoughts to each other. I was seeing evidence of this   
theory now, as Levina bolted off in the direction of the jewelry.   
  
Levina had always been the artistic, levelheaded twin, but Rubina was   
almost her polar opposite. Levina was a devout Christian, and very   
conservative. Her ultra-conservative viewpoint was strange enough in   
America, but over here in Japan, where nobody takes religion very   
seriously, she is very unusual. She had graduated Harvard in the top   
of her class, and then moved to Japan to work. She still keeps up-to-  
date on American politics, and her English is better than anyone else   
I know beside myself.   
  
Rubina was a Bohemian; in other words, she lived on sex,   
drugs, pleasure, and the belief she could do whatever the hell she   
wanted. She had dropped out of high school at sixteen, then she   
somehow got into Tokyo Inc. as an entry-level hairstylist. I had   
heard that Levina had talked the execs into hiring Rubina, but it's   
always been regarded as veritable gossip. I know Rubina's free-  
wheeling lifestyle bothers her a lot, but I've never seen Levina   
preach at her sister, well, not in words, anyways. I have seen it in   
subtle body language, like whenever Rubina brings up the latest rave,   
Levina would sigh and roll her eyes like she had heard it all before.   
The only thing that the two had in common, besides the gene pool they   
had originated from, was their profession.  
  
The next thing I can remember was Levina bolting back into the  
room. Rubina seized the earrings and put them in my ears. The twins   
both stepped back and gasped at the same time.  
  
"It's-" started Rubina.  
  
"Perfect!" Levina had exclaimed, ending the sentence.  
  
"Well, let me see!" I said, giggling and clapping my hands.   
This was in the early days, when I was excited about my work.   
  
The twins parted like a velvet curtain, revealing me, their   
masterpiece. I got up and twirled around, the ribbons following my   
motions like a ballerina's dream.   
  
I caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman in the mirror. I   
stepped closer and touched my reflection with my right hand, to see if   
it was real. The mirror woman touched the same spot with her left   
hand, and we stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathless, until   
either one of us could come to terms with the fact that we were both   
one and the same, this goddess named Minako.  
  
"Well, what do you think?" I recall Rubina asking when my   
thoughts had returned to Earth.   
  
"Is...that...me?" I asked, placing doubtful emphasis on the   
last word.  
  
Levina laughed. "Yes, it's really you, Minako."  
  
"You look like some kind of goddess," Rubina breathed.  
  
"Kind of like Venus, the Roman Goddess of Love," finished   
Levina.  
  
Even when I had left the dressing room, the image of the   
mirror woman, this modern Aphrodite, haunted my mind. It was as if a   
piece of me had fallen away, and for a moment, I saw what lay   
underneath.  
  
A plaintive meow from Artemis brought me back to the present.   
"Yes, I know, it's time to feed you." He jumped on top of my right   
shoulder, and I quickly pried him off. "Arte-MIS!" I moaned. "I   
can't hold you now! I'll get cat hair all over my dress!" He looked   
at me as if he was deeply offended, then leapt onto the floor. I   
shook my head as I watched him make a beeline towards the kitchen.   
That cat is trouble; he's far too smart for his own good. If I didn't  
know any better, I would swear that he understood me.  
  
I could picture Artemis in his tomcat days, strutting around   
the neighborhood like he owned the place. Maybe he'd come up to Luna,  
Usagi and Mamoru's cat, and lick her face playfully. Luna would swat   
him gently in return, Artemis he would circle around her, far away at   
first, but the circle would narrow in diameter slowly, ever so slowly.  
His eyes would shine a feral, predatory blue, and then the mating   
dance would begin...  
  
I shook my head as I set the food dish down. It's too bad   
that Artemis didn't talk, or share tips on charm and poise with his   
previous owner. I'd be willing to bet that Kunzite would benefit from  
such lessons, if he listened, of course. Maybe he would be a regular   
Don Juan; instead of a man I wanted nothing to do with. I sighed.   
Life is so unfair.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I found a parking space without incident at Chiba Inc, which   
is rare. Usually, I have to keep circling the parking garage until   
someone decides to leave. I noticed that Kunzite has a reserved   
parking space right next to Mamoru. "Hn... Mamoru must like him a   
lot," I mused. "But for the life of me, I can't figure out why.   
Maybe he sees something in Kunzite that I've missed." I frowned a   
bit. That almost sounded like I was wrong about Kunzite, and I'm not  
...am I? I sighed a bit as I walked into the double doors.   
  
I do think very highly of Mamoru. I like his quick wit and   
dry sense of humor. I never would have known him if Usagi hadn't   
pointed him out to me nine years ago as "that jackass from Azabu."   
When I met him, I thought he was a stuck up idiot. My reasoning was   
that Usagi didn't like him, and she likes almost everyone. It took me  
half a year to realize that he was being a jerk because he loved her   
and didn't know how to tell her. Since then, he has opened up a lot,   
and I'm glad to have him in my circle of friends.  
  
"Maybe my feelings were like Usagi's. Maybe my dislike of   
Kunzite was merely the result of wounded love. Maybe I could be   
wrong, after all. Nah. That can't be it." I shook the alien thought  
out of my head and walked over to the receptionist in the main lobby.  
  
"Hi, can you tell me where Kunzite works?"  
  
The secretary squinted really hard, then a look of surprise   
and exhilaration crossed her face. "Venus? Is that you?"  
  
"Damn!" I thought upon hearing my modeling pseudonym. "The   
jig is up!"   
  
"Yes, that would be me. Would you keep it quiet, please?"  
  
"OH MY GOD!" she shouted. "It's Venus! The Venus!"  
  
"Shit!" I thought. "I knew I shouldn't have gone out in   
public in my work clothes! What the hell was I thinking?" I dug my   
heels and prepared for the inevitable.  
  
I blinked twice. Nothing happened. "Nani? Am I missing   
something?"   
  
"Would you like me to give you my autograph?" I asked   
politely. Not being mobbed always puts me in a good mood.  
  
"YES!"   
  
I winced as the woman's loud voice assaulted my ears. "I   
don't have any paper on me. Do you have anything I could sign?"  
  
"Sure! Here, you can sign this," she said, handing me the   
latest issue of Sassy. I dug in my purse until I finally pulled out   
my favorite pen. "Okay, whom do I make this out to?"  
  
"Seiishi," she breathed.  
  
"Interesting...your name is a number?"  
  
"Yeah. My dad named me Seiishi because that was how many   
sakes it took him to pass out the day I was born."(AN: Seiishi = seven)  
  
I nodded sympathetically, and signed my name on the cover.   
"May I ask you a favor?" I said as I returned the magazine.  
  
"Sure, anything you want."  
  
"Could you not mention where you got my autograph?"  
  
Seiishi looked at me as if I was from another planet. "Why?"  
  
I sighed. "It's a long story. Anyways, where does Kunzite   
work?"  
  
"35th floor. Take a left once you exit the elevator and keep   
going straight. You can't miss it."  
  
I smiled my trademark megawatt charmer. "Thanks! Later!"  
  
"Bye," she said, as if she was still a little confused. I   
shrugged my shoulders once inside the elevator and waited for my   
number to come. I was surprised that the elevator went straight to   
the top, as it seemed odd that nobody else would be using it. Could   
it be an omen? I shook off that thought. I hate superstitions.  
  
I walked right up to his office door, and was about to knock,   
but for some reason, I hesitated. Was this really the right thing to   
do? I frowned, doubting my conflicting logic and myself. I decided   
to knock anyways.  
  
"Um, miss? Do you have an appointment?"  
  
I turned around. "Not this again!" I moaned, and then turned  
around to answer the source of the voice. "Are you his secretary?"  
  
"Yes. My name is Danburite. Nice to meet you," he said,   
gripping my hand in a firm, confident handshake.  
  
"Aino Minako," I returned.  
  
"Ah, so you're the famous miss Mina, ne?"  
  
I raised my eyebrows. The man standing in front of me was of   
average height, average build, and he had platinum blonde hair like   
Kunzite's, except his was cropped close to his head. Maybe the two   
were related, or something. "What are you talking about?" I asked.  
  
He smiled at me, the kind of smile that meant he knew some-  
thing he wasn't about to share. "Go right in," he said, gesturing   
towards the door.  
  
"Thanks," I said curtly. I gave him credit in my mental   
account. He didn't take the bait, and he didn't allow me to seduce   
him. I like that.   
  
I closed the door behind me and stood silently. The office I   
was standing in was huge, and unlike Kunzite's apartment, impressively  
decorated. The floor had a thin, navy blue carpet, and the entire   
office was surrounded on three sides by shelf after shelf of books.   
Rare pieces of fine art that Ami had told me about were placed   
selectively around the room. The side that was not shelved was   
nothing but a huge series of windows, overlooking an impressive view   
of the Tokyo skyline.   
  
I don't know how long I just stood there, taking it all in. I  
was awed, and didn't know what to say. I was wrong about something   
else; despite the seemingly random series of boxes scattered around   
his apartment, he was neat and had an impressive sense of interior   
design.   
  
"Minako?"  
  
"Uh...hi, Kunzite," I returned.   
  
"What a pleasant surprise. Here, have a seat," he said,   
moving in front of his desk and pulling out a chair.  
  
"Thanks," I said, feeling unsure of myself. I sat there,   
looking down at my fingernails, not daring to make eye contact. My   
hands were shaking, and I bit my lip. All of my fury and bluster had   
gone out the window.   
  
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked.  
  
I looked up at him and honestly admitted, "I have no idea."  
  
He laughed a little, the kind that's with me, instead of   
against me. "You have no idea?"  
  
"Nope," I said, laughing. The whole thing was looking pretty   
ridiculous, and I couldn't help laughing at myself. Once I had   
regained my composure, I spoke, "Well, I was going to ask you to stop   
sending me flowers," I said, frowning.   
  
"Ah, so you did get them," he said.  
  
"Yeah." I looked him in the eye, and for a few minutes it was  
completely silent. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine,   
each of us probing and testing the other.  
  
"So, would you like to go out for breakfast?"  
  
I smiled, the first genuine smile in a long time. "Sure."  
  
He returned my smile. "Great! Can you hold on a second?"  
  
"Okay," I said.  
  
He punched a button on his telephone. "Mamoru?"  
  
"Hey, Kunzite. Can I help you with something?"  
  
"Yes, can I take the rest of the day off?" Kunzite asked.  
  
"This is very unexpected. May I ask why?" asked Mamoru   
curiously.  
  
"Sure. A very special lady is visiting," replied Kunzite,   
winking at me.  
  
"Ah. No problem," Mamoru returned knowingly. "Tell Minako I   
said hi."  
  
"I will," said Kunzite, smiling from ear to ear. "Thanks."   
He pressed another button and walked around the desk. "Shall we?"  
  
I smiled again. "Let's." He linked his arm with mine, and we  
walked out the door.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Lady A: Don't you just hate me now? *Lady A laughs fiendishly* I   
have something very special planned for the rest of the story...and   
you'll just have to wait and see. BTW, Danburite is an intentional   
manga reference to Minako's days as Sailor V. I won't say any more,   
because it would spoil the story. Let's just say that it won't  
be smooth sailing for Minako and Kunzite...hee! Later! 


	5. Buyer Beware

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens  
by Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 5 - Buyer Beware  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It felt so strange walk together with Kunzite without one of   
our arguments. My heart was pounding a mile a minute, but I wasn't   
really nervous. I didn't know how I felt anymore; all I knew was that  
I had no reason to hate him anymore. He wasn't a slob, or a male   
model. What else have I been wrong about? Did I really want to know?  
  
"You're quiet," he said, opening the car door for me.  
  
"I guess I am," I responded.  
  
"So, tell me what you're thinking," he said.  
  
"What I'm thinking?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. "Why on   
Earth would you want to know that?"  
  
He didn't say anything for a few minutes, and I wondered if he  
had ignored the question. I glanced at the man next to me, looking   
for clues, but his eyes were glued to the road. I stared off into   
space, feeling anxious. I put my face in my hands. "Why did I agree   
to this? He's ignoring me! ME! How dare he!" My arms fell to my   
side, stiff as petrified wood. Then I felt this curious sensation;   
suddenly, I had three hands? No, that can't be right. It was then   
that I saw one of the hands was his, and it was stroking mine.  
  
In shock, I tore my hand away. "Don't," was all I could say.   
I saw a frown mar his chiseled face. Was he genuinely hurt?   
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
"Just...don't."  
  
He stopped the car in front of a building, but he didn't open   
the door. He turned around and faced me. He made no move to touch   
me, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. "What are you afraid of?"  
he asked.  
  
Startled by his directness, I tore my glance away. He   
responded by gently tilting my chin upwards until we were face to face  
again. I felt his rapid pulse through his fingertips, and I chewed my  
lip. I took his hands into mine and pulled them away from my face.   
I took a deep breath, looked him in the eyes, and said the only   
coherent thought in my clouded mind, "This."  
  
He released my hands and walked around the other side of the   
car. "Well, would you like to eat something?"  
  
"Sure," I said. For the first time, I looked past him, and I   
saw a very comforting sight. "The Soda Shoppe?"  
  
"Yeah. I like this place," he said absently.  
  
"Me too."  
  
"Hey, Minako! What can I get you?" asked Motoki as Kunzite   
pulled out a chair for me.   
  
"A poached egg, orange juice and a slice of toast, no butter."  
  
"And for the gentleman?"  
  
"One large stack of pancakes, heavy on the syrup."  
  
"Coming right up," Motoki said, grinning from ear to ear.   
"Oh, brother," I thought. "Now the girls will find out about this for   
sure."   
  
"So," I said, trying to start off an intelligent conversation.  
"I hear you're in charge of Human Resources. What's that like?"  
  
Kunzite laughed. "Basically, I interview potential employees   
who are applying to higher positions, or seeking promotion. It's my   
job to judge how their potential can be an asset to Chiba Inc. Once   
they've been hired, I look after their training for the next couple of  
weeks."  
  
"That sounds like hard work," I mused, sipping my water.  
  
"It is, but I find it very rewarding. What do you do for a   
living?" he asked.  
  
I hesitated for a few moments. What should I tell him? That   
I'm a supermodel, the top rated face in the East? Should I tell him   
that I made People magazine's Best Dressed list last year, or that   
several cosmetic companies are fighting to name a makeup line after   
me? "Oh, nothing much, really. I 'm into photography." Well, that   
wasn't a complete lie; it was just that I did my work in front of the   
camera as opposed to behind.  
  
"Really? My friend is dating a woman who alters photographs.   
I hear she works down town. Miss...Mizuno, right?"  
  
"Yes, I've heard of her," I said. "She's going out with   
Zoisite, right?"  
  
"They had their first date last night," he said. "He hasn't   
told me how it went yet. Actually, come to think of it, I haven't   
seen him all morning."  
  
"I wouldn't think Ami would be the type that would put out on   
the first date," I said bluntly.  
  
"Yes, she seems like she would be more reserved," he said   
pensively.  
  
"I'd say 'modest' would be a better word," I clarified.   
  
"I guess so," said Kunzite, sipping his own water. "Minako,   
why did you come to my office?"  
  
"I already told you," I said. "I don't know."  
  
"You said you wanted me to stop sending you flowers, but   
you're here with me now. I'm getting mixed signals here."   
  
I knew I should have been blustering after such direct   
language, but for some reason, I didn't have it in me. "It's a long   
story," I sighed.  
  
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want. I don't want   
to make you uncomfortable, Minako."  
  
"There is one thing that makes me uncomfortable. Why did you   
keep sending me flowers when I showed no sign of interest?" I asked.   
It was my turn to be direct.  
  
"You honestly don't know?" he asked.   
  
"What, you live next door to a florist's?" I cracked.  
  
"No, I kept sending you flowers because I-"  
  
"Here's your breakfast, minna," Motoki said, depositing two   
steaming plates onto the table. "Let me know if you need anything   
else."  
  
"Thanks," I said curtly. Could he possibly have any worse   
timing? We dug into our meal with awkward silence. The only sounds   
that could be heard were the scraping of silverware against plates.   
It seemed to take me forever to finish my meal, especially since   
Kunzite finished long before I did.  
  
"Well, where to next?" I asked, taking out my credit card.  
  
"No, this one's on me," he said.  
  
"Are you kidding?" I said.  
  
In response, he deposited the exact price of our meal, plus a   
little extra. How on earth did he know how much our meal would cost?   
We didn't even look at the menus. I filed away this question for   
later analysis.  
  
"So, how's Artemis doing?" asked Kunzite.  
  
Now this was a conversation I could get into. "He's doing   
great," I said. "I love that little fuzz ball."  
  
"Has he gotten into your socks yet?"  
  
"Yes, how did you know?"  
  
"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to take off my shoes, and you  
really don't want me to do that," he said, grinning.  
  
"Heh. I'll bet. He's a smart little guy," I said. "He's   
almost figured out how to open and close doors all by himself."  
  
"Really? I didn't know cats could do that."  
  
All too soon, we reached the car. "Where to now, Miss Daisy?"  
  
"Miss Daisy?"  
  
"Yeah," he said. "As in Driving Miss Daisy."  
  
"Oh, I see." My watch reflection caught the corner of my eye,   
and I looked at the face of it in horror. "Damn! I'm late for work!"  
  
"I can drive you there if you'd like," Kunzite offered.  
  
"No, no, no, don't do that. I don't want to trouble you," I   
said, laughing nervously.  
  
"It's no problem, really," he said.  
  
I dug my fingernails into my palms nervously. What was I   
going to do? I had an important shoot that day, but I didn't want   
Kunzite to know that I'm a model. Which was more important, support-  
ing someone I can't stand, or giving someone else a chance to prove he  
was someone worth knowing? If he saw my work, he wouldn't be able to   
look past all of the blinding lights and glitter. He'd only see   
Venus, not me, the real me, Aino Minako. Or maybe I was afraid to let  
him get too close, and he would see the Minako inside, the one I   
didn't let anyone see.  
  
"Minako?" he asked, bringing my thoughts back to the present.   
"Is something wrong?"  
  
I laughed nervously, but I could tell he wasn't buying it.   
  
He opened the back door and motioned for me to go in. "Would   
you like to talk about it? People say I'm a good listener," he said.  
  
"Remember when you asked me what I was afraid of?" I said.  
  
"Yes," he said expectantly.  
  
"Love," I responded, looking at my hands. "I'm afraid of   
love."  
  
He nodded his head as if he understood. "I'm not going to   
hurt you, Minako," he said softly. "I would never ask you to do any-  
thing you're not ready for."  
  
I looked into his eyes, and I could see that he was being   
sincere. He really did care about me. Why didn't I see that sooner?   
"So, you actually love me?"  
  
"Why does that surprise you?"  
  
"I've been so cold, I don't know why you don't see me as a   
heartless creep," I said, my voice wobbly.   
  
"You're not heartless, Minako," he said. That was all the   
invitation I needed. Tears flowed from my eyes without warning, and   
all of the hurts that I've been carrying inside of me ran down my   
face. The mask fell away, and for the first time in years, I couldn't  
pretend anymore. I wasn't Venus, the supermodel that drove men crazy   
with a wink and a smile, or the bubbly blonde that loved to meddle in   
my friend's love lives. For a brief moment, I was the scared little   
girl living in the slums of London. I cried for all of the years I've  
thrown away chasing a hopeless dream, and mourned my lost childhood.   
He gathered me into his arms and held me until I couldn't cry anymore.   
  
When I realized I had actually let my guard down, I raised my   
head and saw two black circles on his white shirt. "Oh, God, your   
shirt! I've ruined it!"  
  
"Nonsense," he said, smiling. "I've never looked better.   
So, where do you want to go?"  
  
"Go? I look like a mess!" I moaned. "My mascara's all   
streaky!"  
  
"You look okay to me," he said, smiling. "Better than   
'okay'."  
  
"Liar," I said, smiling. "But thanks."  
  
"Any time," he said.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
As soon as I got out of the car, a loud, tinny voice boomed   
"KONBANWA, MINNA-CHAN!"  
  
"Ahh! What the hell is that?" I screeched.   
  
"Relax, Minako, it's just a casino sign."  
  
And so it was. This monstrosity of a sign looked like a huge, neon   
Buddha. Every few seconds, the Buddha would wave at people and smile   
his gap-toothed grin. He was standing on huge, bright blue letters   
that said "The Lucky Buddha," and it hurt my poor eyes to look at him.  
  
"Yeah. It's fun."  
  
"If you say so," I mumbled. "There are far to many flashing   
lights here already. I get enough of that at work."  
  
He looked at me strangely for a moment, and then he nodded as   
if some huge revelation had struck home. "Well, there's this one room  
in the back that's really quiet. It's called the 'chokahanka room.'"  
  
"Choking Hanky Room? What on Earth is that?"   
  
He laughed at me gently. "Chokahanka. It's a dice game,   
Minako. It comes from the words chou and han, which mean odd and   
even."  
  
"Oh, okay," I said, although I still didn't quite get it.   
"Well, I'll try anything once," I said, smiling gamely. Well, that   
was mostly true, anyways.  
  
We walked past the glittering slot machines and the roulette   
tables, and gradually, the objects became less and less glamorous   
until everything merged into a quiet gray. The floor was covered with  
sawdust, and it looked more like a warehouse than anything else.   
Stacks upon stacks of boxes and burlap sacks littered the room, some   
reaching almost as high as the ceiling. The only light in the area   
was sunlight that filtered through the cracks in the rotting, moldy   
cement walls. I had the feeling that I shouldn't be there, nor should   
any living thing, I thought as my stiletto heels clicked against the   
ground. It smelled like death and decay. I began to chew my lip   
nervously.  
  
"Relax, we're okay. Just don't talk when you come into the   
room." Kunzite gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.  
  
I knitted my eyebrows together in confusion. "What kind of   
gambling game is there where you don't speak?" I asked loudly.  
  
Unfortunately, when I had said that, we had already walked   
into the chokahanka room. A well-dressed, middle-aged man in a pin-  
striped, Italian suit looked up and glared daggers at me. A woman   
with hair like fire trailing down her shoulders watched the proceed-  
ings and threw me a withering look with her indigo eyes. She was   
long-legged, buxom, and she wore a floor-length dress that seemed to   
be painted on. The woman radiated a strange kind of dark power that   
made me shiver despite the humid, sticky air.   
  
A huge pile of unmarked, non-sequential bills sat in the   
middle of an elegant looking table that looked out of place in such a   
dusty, obscure area. Everyone except me had placed their hands   
demurely at their sides. There was an unspoken tension in the air,   
as if I had committed an unspeakable crime. "What a bunch of touchy   
people," I thought. "What did I say?"  
  
A well-dressed, subtle looking man looked around the room to   
find the offending voice, then he said in a low voice, "Play." He   
withdrew his hand from a bamboo cup, and a pair of die fell onto a   
Japanese mat. The whole room peered intently at the die to see   
whether it had fallen on odds or evens. In the same quiet voice, he   
announced "Chou." At that, an elderly man bowed his head and quietly   
left the room. "I guess he lost," I thought.  
  
I watched this strange game several times with Kunzite by my   
side. For some strange reason, he never placed a bet. Why on earth   
did we come in here if neither of us were going to play? Everyone   
except the die thrower was staring at us, devouring us with their eyes  
like a silent frenzy of sharks. I tugged gently at Kunzite's sleeve,   
and he shook his head. "What? Why are we staying here? What is he   
doing? What was he trying to prove?"   
  
After an hour and a half, the man who rolled the die walked   
out of the room. "Hn...come to think of it, haven't I seen him   
before?" I didn't have time to think about it, since before I knew   
it, Kunzite walked out of the room. "Kunzite, wait!" I cried. I   
heard one massive hissing noise. Why was everyone telling me to hush?  
I shook my head at myself and walked out. There was no way I was   
going to stay here alone in this room full of creepy weirdos.   
  
"Kunzite, where are you going?" He looked behind his shoulder  
at me, as if he didn't want me to follow him. Why would he act so   
strange? He had been Mister Sensitive all night, and now he was   
stalking the casino worker. Was there something he wasn't telling me?  
I ran as fast as I could in my spiked heels, but it wasn't fast   
enough. I tried to remember how I had entered this strange place, but  
it was pitch black now, and I couldn't see a thing.   
  
A match striking a rough surface flared up out of the   
darkness. A husky voice that seemed to come from a cloud of   
cigarette smoke followed and asked, "Are you lost?"   
  
At that point, I did the only thing I could do in a crazy   
situation like that. I ran like hell, not caring that I couldn't see   
where I was going. The next thing I knew, my heels broke, and I   
slipped into oblivion. Before I did, I could have sworn that I heard   
a woman laughing...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Get that whore out of here!" I heard a woman screech.   
Through my blurry vision, I could see the red haired woman...at least   
I thought it was a woman...pointing at me and gesturing wildly.  
  
"No! She needs my help." A navy colored blob with a white   
head stamped his foot.  
  
"Itai!" I murmured. "Not so loud! My head is killing me!"   
My cries went unnoticed, and the pair continued their heated argument.  
  
"It would be wise of you to consider your position in this   
organization," she sneered. "You are my second. That means you   
answer to me."  
  
"You would be wise to consider your place," said the man, his   
arms folded across his chest. "The only reason we're even having this  
conversation is because Tanas is dead."  
  
Their shapes were becoming wavy and indistinct, like some kind  
of fever dream. The woman stroked her chin in a thoughtful way.   
  
"Hn, perhaps you're right, Ace," she purred, and I heard a   
faint sound of fingernails scraping against sequins. "After all, I am   
only a woman," she said, placing husky emphasis on the last word. I   
heard the sound of heels clicking urgently against cement.   
  
Then I heard, "No, stop it! You'll kill her!"  
  
"We can't have any witnesses," she said. I heard the sound of  
feet shuffling and heavy breathing. After that, the world mercifully   
chose to go black.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I heard the sound of angry knocking on my door. I rubbed my   
head and slowly sat up. Was it all a dream? It certainly felt real.   
I moved my hand over the back of my head and noticed an egg shaped lump.  
  
"Open up!" demanded a voice. "This is the police!"  
  
Panic registered immediately, clearing the mists of sleep from   
my brain. What, exactly, had happened last night? 


	6. No Answers

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens  
by Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 6 - No Answers  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Despite my efforts to block them out, the frantic knocking on   
my door became louder by the second. I opened my eyes, which seemed   
to be gummed shut. I hurriedly jumped out of bed, and then I realized  
I was still wearing my evening gown from the previous night. After a   
brief inspection of the mirror, I decided I looked good enough to   
answer the door. I raced to the door, noticing that I was in my   
stocking feet. My stilettos were carefully placed at the foot of my   
bed, next to Artemis. "Funny," I thought to myself. "I don't remem-  
ber taking my shoes off..."  
  
I casually strolled to the door, relaxing my anxiety-stiffened  
muscles.  
  
Upon seeing that the officers were all men, I flashed my most   
brilliant smile. "Hi, can I help you?" I said, sounding as innocent   
as I could. After all, I didn't do anything...did I? I could only   
remember up to the Chokahanka game at the casino; after that, every-  
thing was a blur.  
  
"M-miss Aino, is it?" asked a stout, balding man with white,   
bushy whiskers.  
  
"Yes, that would be me."  
  
"Yes, of course," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm Officer   
Kamadachi, and my assistant is Chin-san," he said, gesturing to a   
tall, blond, blue-eyed man with long legs and a triangular build. "We   
need to ask you a few questions about what happened last night."  
  
"What happened to whom?" I asked. I wasn't playing dumb per   
se; I sincerely hadn't the faintest idea what the police were after.  
  
"Well, naturally, it would be your perspective that is of   
interest to us," interjected Chin. "There was an incident involving  
The Crimson Fist at the Lucky Buddha Casino that you may know about."  
  
"Well," I began, taking in a deep breath and tapping my chin   
pensively. "I went to the casino on a date. I wanted to go someplace  
quiet, so my date escorted me to the Chokahanka room towards the   
back." I paused for a moment, and Chin motioned for me to continue.   
"Neither of us actually played, but we did watch the game for about   
ninety minutes. When the dice thrower left the room, my date took off  
and ran after him."  
  
"Was your date someone by the name of Kunzite?" Chin inqui-  
red.  
  
I squeezed my palms into little fists. "Why, is he in some   
kind of trouble?" I asked, shifting my right foot from side to side.   
  
"Possibly," said Kamadachi. "We have reason to believe that   
Kunzite may be involved in the Crimson Fist."  
  
"Crimson Fist? What's that?" I asked.  
  
Chin's eyes narrowed slightly, as if my line of questioning   
had probed too deeply. "If I told you that, Miss Aino, your life   
would be in grave jeopardy."  
  
The blood flushed out of my skin and turned to ice. "Oh my   
God!" I said, putting my hand to my forehead. "Are you talking about   
the yakuza?"   
  
In response, Chin and Kamadachi snapped their clipboards shut,  
bowed their heads and quietly shut my door.  
  
After ten minutes, when the implications of last night's   
events had sunk in, I marched over to my telephone and angrily punched  
in Kunzite's cell phone number, which I had obtained from my caller   
I.D. "Hello, Kunzite?" I demanded.  
  
"This is Danburite, how may I help you, Miss Aino?"  
  
"I want to talk to Kunzite NOW!" I screamed.  
  
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. "He's   
in a meeting right now-"  
  
"I DON'T CARE! PUT HIM ON NOW!" I exclaimed, feeling the vein  
pop out in the middle of my forehead.  
  
Suddenly, the sound coming from the receiver end of my phone   
changed to bland, pacifying elevator music. I was NOT in the mood to   
be patronized, damn it! I slammed the phone down on its hook, not   
caring that I was being very loud for nine in the morning. I was   
going to get to the bottom of this, even if I had to wring Danburite's   
thick neck to get to it.   
  
Furiously, I hailed a taxi. "Chiba Inc, NOW!" I said, slam-  
ming a stack of yens into the driver's open palm.  
  
"Yes, ma'am!" he exclaimed, but he didn't speed up one bit.  
  
"What's the friggin' hold up! I need to get there some time   
this CENTURY!" I wailed, pounding my fists on the rear window.  
  
"Sorry, Ma'am, but I can only go so fast as the cars in front   
of me."  
  
"THEN GET INTO ANOTHER LANE!" I demanded.  
  
The driver gulped audibly and switched to the lane to the   
left.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
After what seemed like forever, but was actually only a few   
minutes, I marched into the elevator, ignoring the pleas of the   
secretary in the lobby. I hated being so rude, but this was a matter   
of life, and possibly death.  
  
I marched straight out of the elevator and pounded my fists on  
Danburite's desk, not caring that the wood was particularly dense and   
quite painful. "I WANT TO SEE KUNZITE NOW!" I blasted in his ears.  
  
Danburite stood up in a way that was slow and calculated. He   
sidestepped to the left of the desk, completely blocking my path.   
"Miss Aino, Kunzite cannot be disturbed right now," he said in a voice  
that was dangerously low. An animalistic, primal glint flickered in   
his eyes, and fear began to crowd out my anger-ridden mind. His   
steely blue eyes narrowed, and he added in a husky, feral rasp, "If   
you need to speak to Kunzite, you will do so when and if he has the   
allotted time to do so. Do we have an understanding?"  
  
I stood up straight, puffed my chest out, squared my shoulders   
to his and spread my legs apart. I focused my anger into a tight,   
little ball, and allowed it to trickle out. "You don't want to talk to  
me that way, Danburite."  
  
"Is that any way to speak to a man that saved your life?" he   
hissed.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed. "You have done no such   
thing."  
  
He said nothing in response, but devoured me with his preda-  
tory glance. Come to think of it, I know that look. It was the same   
look that I had seen last night at the casino. The gears began to   
turn in my brain, and I began to understand that Danburite was hiding   
something, something big. My eyes widened.   
  
"You're keeping a secret from me, Danburite," I said, grinning like a   
shark.  
  
A look of fear flickered across his face, but it was gone in   
an instant. "I am warning you not to underestimate me, Miss Aino. It  
could be very dangerous." His expression became blank and unreadable.   
  
"How long will Kunzite be...occupied?" I asked.  
  
"Long enough," he replied.  
  
I turned around, and then pivoted on my heel so I was facing   
Danburite again. "You can't hide forever, Danburite. Sooner or   
later, I'll find out what you're hiding, and when I do, you won't have  
a prayer," I said in a manner that was poised, well-timed, and let him  
know in no uncertain terms that I meant business. I walked out of the  
waiting area, my shoulders held high, and I didn't look back. It was   
time for me to go to work, but as soon as I got out, I would spend   
every waking moment digging for answers.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
After work, I did something that I hadn't done in years; I ran  
straight to the nearest newsstand. Maybe something in the news would   
trigger my mind; at least that's what I had hoped. I coolly slid some  
yen across the counter and dashed to the nearest taxi, not even   
bothering to get the change.   
  
I made sure that I was in the safety of my apartment before I   
opened the newspaper. I knew that I had heard the name "Crimson Fist"   
before, and I was almost certain that it had something to do with the   
yakuza, which is the Japanese mafia. I slowly turned each page of the  
newspaper, searching the breaking news for any relevant information.   
I was just about to give up when I saw a picture that grabbed my   
attention. I saw a tall, slender woman who looked very familiar   
somehow. I pondered this as I rubbed the egg-shaped lump on the back   
of my forehead. "Yes, I have seen that woman before," I thought,   
tapping my fingers on the smooth, glass surface of my coffee table.   
The caption directly under the photograph read, "Beryl Bixbite, wife   
of the recently departed Tanas Bixbite, being led away by the police   
after a casino raid."  
  
"Bixbite...Bixbite," I mumbled, racking my brains. I have   
heard that name before. Mamoru mentioned it last month. If I was   
remembering correctly, Beryl was the widow of Tanas Bixbite, the pre-  
vious leader of Bixbite, Inc. Bixbite had long been a thorn in   
Mamoru's side, and it was the main source of competition for Chiba   
Inc. Beryl had a reputation for being a ruthless, domineering busi-  
nesswoman who was not afraid to play dirty. Rumor had it that she had  
arranged for the imprisonment, and perhaps even the execution of the   
late Tanas Bixbite. If that was true, then Beryl placed very little   
value on human life itself, trading the lives of men in a calculated   
shuffle that would invariably end with the fire haired woman on top of  
the bodies of all those who dared to oppose her godlike power.  
  
I walked over to my seldom-used computer and turned on my   
Internet connection. From there, I typed in the keywords "yakuza,   
Crimson Fist," and "Bixbite," leaving out the punctuation. Seconds   
later, a screen full of police reports flooded my screen. My heart   
skipped a beat, and for the first time, I realized that I was in over   
my head, and that only God himself could save me now.   
  
The first link I opened led me to an online article about the   
yakuza:  
  
~*~About a month ago, a corporate secretary was in the custody of the   
Immigration Bureau at Maui International Airport. No drugs were found   
on the man, but the pinky of his right hand was missing. This led the  
Maui island officers to believe that he was a former member of the   
yakuza, the Japanese mafia.   
  
The FBI contacted the Japanese police to check the man's record. Entry  
into any American territory or province is possible despite any out-  
standing criminal records, provided that the American embassy is made   
aware of it. He entered with a fake visa, appearing to be just like   
any other Japanese tourist. The Bureau officer noted his missing   
digit and did not permit him to enter the country. He was sent to   
Japan the next day.  
  
It is common in Japan for a random individual to be shot down by   
yakuza fire, people that are entirely innocent. It has been proven   
impossible thus far to eliminate this insidious, secretive society.   
Like a spider's web, their power is very strong and sweeps the entire   
nation of Japan. The society itself continues to grow, feeding from   
money gained in the black market. The yakuza use this money to   
collect the weapons they need to protect themselves from their   
enemies.   
  
Most of the information obtained for this article comes from a former   
member of the yakuza. He was twenty years old when he entered one of   
the largest yakuza societies in Tokyo. He retired fifteen years   
later, when he was thirty-five years old, and he became aware that   
his job was a danger to his family. One day, his youngest son was   
given an assignment to write about his father's occupation. When he   
asked his father, he was unable to tell the boy that he was a secret   
member of the yakuza. The stigma of his job had built up to a point   
that he could no longer bear. He fled to the United States, where he  
is currently under federal protection.  
  
The yakuza is a male-dominated organization. Women are regarded as   
weak and untrustworthy, with a single exception. The only recognized   
female of the any yakuza assemblage is the boss' wife, called ane-san,  
which means "older sister." She is given the same respect as the boss   
solely because of her marital ties. A woman's position is to stay   
home and care for the family. Only the man may fight, and he must be   
willing to die for the good of his boss. Also, they uphold that women  
are too spineless to stand up to interrogation and would leak out any   
valuable information to the police.  
  
The yakuza have their own distinctive way of making amends after an   
error, called "Yubizume." Yubizume involves chopping off the little   
finger and offering it to the person they are apologizing to, usually   
someone higher in rank. This was the case of the informant who sup-  
plied the information to this article. He had fallen in love with the  
boss's daughter and he had tried to elope in secret. The boss found   
out via one of his own informants, and the man was forced to yubizume.  
  
The boss's senior, who is his second in command, brought a knife and a  
long piece of white string. He placed the objects in front of the   
young man. Without hesitation, the young man raised the blade while   
holding one end of the string between his teeth and the other end with  
his right hand. He tied it around the base of his little finger on   
his left hand. The man took a deep breath, and sliced off the tip of   
his little finger with the knife. After that, he wrapped the finger   
tip in a towel and offered it to his boss. The boss was silent, mean-  
ing that he accepted the young man's apology and would allow him to   
live. However, the young man was forced to leave the group, while the  
boss's daughter was merely reprimanded.  
  
The lion's share of the yakuza's funds comes from gambling, most often  
from dice games. Each group has its own gambling room, which is usual-  
ly behind a bar or restaurant.   
  
I blinked my eyes. This would explain why the chokahanka room  
was placed in such an isolated area.  
  
Food and drinks are served, but the main purpose is gambling. The gam-  
blers are chosen by the group. If they do not know them, they cannot   
gamble. The yakuza do not want the police to know about their   
business.   
  
I put the paper down because the information raised more ques-  
tions than answers. How was Kunzite chosen by the yakuza? Did this   
mean that he was involved with the Crimson Fist? Then again, I   
recalled the steely death glares given to us by the people in the   
room, especially Beryl, who had been supervising the event. It made   
me feel like Kunzite and I definitely did not belong there. If that   
was true, then why didn't anybody make any move to harm either of us?   
Did Beryl command them to be inactive, or was she merely waiting for a  
better time to strike?  
  
The fact that Beryl was even allowed in the room meant that   
she had a great deal of power, and that power could only have been   
handed to her by marriage. The name I had heard the night before,   
Tanas, could be no less than the boss. To the yakuza, the boss is a   
god, the only force they worship. Somehow, through a lot of fancy   
footwork, Beryl now commanded that insidious power. If Beryl were   
simple-minded, she would have been killed a long time ago. One look   
into her eyes told me that she was anything but simple.  
  
I thought briefly about leaving town, but then a wan, ghost of  
a smile appeared on my lips. Venus is a celebrity, not Minako Aino.   
In the eyes of the media, Minako Aino is a nobody; she does not exist.  
If she does not exist, it would be that much easier for her to dis-  
appear, like a phantom or a wraith.   
  
"I shouldn't have told Danburite that I'd be investigating   
him," I thought, panic rising rapidly in my chest. "He'll probably   
tell Kunzite, and the last person I can trust is him." Kunzite's   
behavior was highly suspect; what kind of man leaves a beautiful woman  
alone in the dark belly of the beast? What kind of knight would leave  
his damsel in distress? Kunzite is no white knight; maybe he was a   
black king, or a shady pawn. Whatever his role might have been, one   
thing registered in my tumbled-up mind. He was not to be trusted.  
  
All coherent thought vanished as a loud, high-pitched sound   
emanated next to me. The phone was ringing, and in my feverish mind,   
the coils curled up like a snake waiting to strike. I hardly dared   
to look at the dialog box on the caller I.D, frightened that the   
yakuza had flushed me out. Lowering a tentative glance at the I.D.,   
my blood ran cold as the text flashing across the screen of my caller   
I.D. confirmed my worst fears. It was Kunzite.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
~*~Author's Note: The information on the yakuza was taken from a   
website:  
  
http://members.tripod.com/~orgcrime/japgangint.htm  
  
and the author of the article is Miyuki I. Sundara, an anthropology   
student. I have altered some words and information slightly, and all   
names have been either altered or removed from the article. The story   
about the informant has been changed slightly to fit the context of   
this story. To my knowledge, the article is not copyrighted, but just  
to be on the safe side, I'll list my source. The last thing I need is  
the mafia, or even worse, a lawyer, on my case. 


	7. No Return

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens  
Chapter 7 - No Return  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
I stared at the phone for what seemed like the longest time,   
though in reality, it couldn't have been any more than three seconds.   
Have you ever noticed that time is elastic? I mean, when you don't   
want something to happen, time seems to zoom ahead to that point, the   
point when what you've been dreading doing or experiencing comes into   
play. When the point of dread is reached, however, time seems to come  
to a complete stop, trapping you within it.   
  
I didn't have any idea what to do, or not to do. Should I   
even be talking to Kunzite? It could be dangerous, or even lethal.   
On the other hand, we were having a good time before we went to the   
casino. I had just been getting to know him, and then he pulls a   
despicable stunt like that. My fists clenched at that thought. I   
mean, how dare he! "That creep sure has some explaining to do," I   
thought to myself. I cast a withering glare at the telephone and   
picked it up off the hook.  
  
"Hello?" I said in an extremely irritated tone. I knew I had   
every right to start this conversation with a chip on my shoulder.  
  
"Minako? It's me, Kunzite."  
  
"I don't even know why I'm talking to you now," I said. "I   
mean, I thought we were really connecting, and then you pull a lame-  
brained stunt like that! How dare you leave me alone in the dark!   
You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do!" I screamed into the   
receiver.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said simply.  
  
I could imagine him wincing and pulling back from the   
receiver. "Good," I thought. "Let him have it!" I smiled wickedly,   
then took in a deep breath before releasing the full extent of my   
anger, "Well, sorry's not going to cut it, Kunzite!"  
  
"I wish I could say more," he amended lamely.  
  
"You wish? You wish?! It's a little too late for wishful   
thinking!" I returned.  
  
There was silence on the other end of the receiver, and then  
Kunzite spoke again, "You said…we were connecting?"  
  
"Yeah," I said, my posture relaxing slightly. "We were."  
  
"Well, at least the evening wasn't a total loss," he said. I   
could picture him grinning his stupid, smug grin. I wanted to wipe it  
off his face with my spiked heel.  
  
"Well, unless you have a VERY good reason for leaving me alone  
last night, I will end this conversation with me slamming this   
receiver on the hook!" I said.  
  
"I can't," he said. "It's too dangerous."  
  
"Oh, like letting me stay by myself in the dark wasn't?"  
  
"Touché," he responded.  
  
"And by dangerous…do you mean the yakuza?" I said, adding   
extra emphasis to the last word.  
  
There was an awkward pause, and I filled the silence by   
saying, "I need to know, dammit! I deserve to be informed!"  
  
"Yes," he said.  
  
"You mean you're involved with the Crimson Fist? I knew it,   
you scum bucket."  
  
"No, I didn't mean that. I meant, yes, you deserve to know.   
The short answer is no, I'm not involved with the Crimson fist."  
  
"And how am I supposed to believe that?" I demanded. "Your   
credibility is seriously lacking here."  
  
"You'll just have to trust me, Minako, that I'd never do any-  
thing to intentionally hurt you."  
  
"Trust? You? Hah! That's the last thing I'm going to do,"   
I said, finishing my statement with a scornful laugh and hanging up   
the phone. "Atta girl!" said my brain. I strutted over to my couch,   
my head held high. The phone was ringing again, but I wasn't about to  
answer it. Nobody does this to Minako Aino. Nobody.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The phone continued to ring until I had decided that I have   
had enough of its nonsense for one night. I yanked the stupid thing   
off the hook and dressed down in my newest disguise, borrowed from   
work, which consisted of a brown wig, sunglasses, jeans and a sweater.  
I walked over to my car in the parking lot, and then I drove over to   
the Sweet Shoppe. Seeing my friends always cheers me up when I'm   
blue, and at that moment, I was seriously depressed.   
  
I walked into the Sweet Shoppe and waved at Usagi. "Hey,   
Minako, how's it going?" she asked.  
  
I smiled, and despite what had happened, what I said next came  
out naturally, "Good, and you?"  
  
"I'm married to the best looking man in Tokyo. What's not to   
like?" she said, grinning.  
  
"Oh, please," said Rei, rolling her violet eyes. "Spare us   
your sap."  
  
"You're just jealous," said Usagi.  
  
"Whatever," returned Rei, dismissing Usagi with a flip of her   
hair.  
  
I laughed despite myself. At least some things never change.   
"Usagi, I hate to say this, but are you gaining weight?"  
  
"Yeah, you are getting a little on the chunky side," said Rei,  
poking Usagi's stomach.  
  
"Oh, shush. I am not," she said, glaring daggers at Rei.  
  
"Oh yeah? Then why is your belly sticking out like a water-  
melon?" retorted Rei.  
  
Usagi opened her mouth like she was going to say something,   
but no words came out. She closed her mouth and stared off into   
space, tapping the table pensively. "I honestly have no idea," she   
said.  
  
"Could it be that your metabolism has caught up with you?"   
said Makoto, who was sipping her lime seltzer.  
  
"Could be," responded Usagi with a frown. "I sure hope not."  
  
"Yeah," I responded with a chuckle. "That would be bad."  
  
The doorbell chimed, and in walked Ami with a dreamy look on   
her face. She looked as if she was walking on air, and only one thing  
can do that to a girl.  
  
"Hey, Ames, you're looking especially cheerful today," said   
Usagi, briefly interrupting my thoughts.  
  
Ami nodded, still smiling. "I guess I am," she said.   
  
"So what's the good news?" asked Rei.  
  
"I know what it is," I said. Things with Zoisite must be   
going better than I had hoped.  
  
"Oooh! Oooh! What is it?" asked Makoto, leaning over Rei's   
shoulders to get a better view of Ami's moonstruck face.  
  
"It's...nothing, really," Ami said, blushing as if she hid a   
great secret. "It's just that-"  
  
"You've been kissed!" I blurted out.  
  
"Do you MIND? You're hurting me!" yelled Rei, whipping her   
head to face Makoto.  
  
"Sorry," said Makoto, who had the grace to blush. She took   
her hands off of Rei's shoulders. "Ouch," I thought. "That's got to   
leave a mark."  
  
"Well, is that true, Ami?" asked Makoto.  
  
Ami nodded her head yes, her face becoming even redder  
  
"Ohmigosh! Our Ami is becoming a woman!" shrieked Usagi.  
  
"Can it, Odango, she's over twenty," Rei retorted.   
  
"Like you should talk. You've never even held hands!" Usagi   
said triumphantly. I smiled at Usagi; sadly, she was speaking the   
truth.   
  
Rei cast a withering glare in Usagi's direction, but other   
than that, she didn't respond.  
  
"So what was it like, Ami?" asked Usagi.  
  
"Fireworks," she said simply.  
  
"Wow! Really?" Usagi asked.  
  
Ami nodded, and Makoto pulled out a chair for her.  
  
"Come on, Ames, you can't leave us hanging like that," I said.  
I mean…fireworks? Damn! Zoisite must be a really good kisser. I   
envied my friend, and I wondered what else Zoisite was good at…  
  
"You know I don't kiss and tell," Ami replied modestly.  
  
"Since when?" asked Makoto.  
  
I nodded in affirmation. She did have a point. Besides, I   
don't think Ami had been kissed like that since, well, ever.   
  
"Mako-chan! If she wants to keep it to herself, let her do   
that!" said Usagi, but I could tell she was just as eager to know as   
the rest of us, well, except for Rei, who couldn't care less.  
  
Ami let out a loud sigh. "Okay, it was like this..." she   
began. "When we all left the Sweet Shoppe, he took me out to see a   
movie."  
  
"Where did you go?" I asked eagerly.  
  
"I was getting to that," Ami responded imperiously. "He took   
me over to his apartment."  
  
"Oooh! His apartment! How intimate!" I crowed.   
  
Ami gave me a Look, then continued. "And get this," Ami said,  
grinning. "I fell asleep during Spaceballs!" she exclaimed.  
  
"You watched Spaceballs?" Makoto asked. "You?"  
  
"Why does everyone act so surprised?" she asked honestly.  
  
"You fell asleep? Get out!" Usagi yelled.  
  
"Yes. And when I woke up, I was in the same bed as Zoisite."  
  
We all gasped.  
  
"Oh, Ami," said Usagi sympathetically.  
  
"You didn't....did you?" asked Rei.  
  
"No, I didn't," said Ami, and we all sighed with relief. "My   
clothes from the previous night were still on, and there wasn't any...  
evidence...left behind."  
  
"Evidence?" asked Rei. I whispered the details about how a   
woman leaves a bloody discharge after her first time having inter-  
course. I grinned fiendishly as I pulled back, seeing my naive friend  
turn bright red.  
  
"Then he made me breakfast. I'm telling you, the man can   
cook!" she said, licking her lips.  
  
"Wow," said Makoto. "I have to meet this guy."  
  
"Mako!" said Usagi, elbowing Makoto.  
  
"Just kidding. Sheesh."  
  
"Then he took me home, walked me to the door and he kissed   
me."  
  
"I'll bet he can't kiss like my Mamo-chan," said Usagi,   
swooning, at which point Rei stuck her tongue out and gagged.  
  
"Well, I don't think I can compare the two, seeing as how I   
haven't been in your position," Ami said, smiling in reminiscence.   
"But I'll tell you this much; he's really, really good. I mean GOOD."  
  
"Come ON Ames! You HAVE to tell us more!" I demanded.  
  
Ami sighed, knowing that she had to go on.  
  
"Well, he said to me, 'Ami, I think you forgot something."  
  
I made a gesture with my hand, and Ami continued. "I said,   
'Did I leave something in the car?' Of course, I hadn't, so he said,   
'No, you forgot the goodbye kiss."  
  
"Then what did he do?" asked Makoto.  
  
"Well, he placed his hand on the small of my back, then he   
pulled me in."  
  
"And then he kissed you?" asked Usagi.  
  
"Yes, and no," said Ami. "He kissed my forehead, my nose, and  
each cheek. I thought, 'Well, this is very strange.' I even asked   
him what he was doing."  
  
I laughed a little. That sounded like Ami, all right. She   
flushed bright red, then continued her story.  
  
"He responded by putting his lips smack dab on top of mine. I  
didn't even have time to blink," she said, smiling.  
  
"Annnd?" I asked.  
  
"Well, it would be…unladylike to elaborate," said Ami, folding  
her hands.  
  
"Aw, come on!" I said, frowning. "We're all adults here."  
  
"Well, some of us are," said Rei, her head propped up on her   
knuckles, looking straight at Usagi.  
  
"I really don't know how to describe it," Ami said. "It was   
just…magical," she gushed.  
  
"Try us," I said.  
  
Ami told us as best as she could exactly how Zoisite kissed   
her, by which point my own body temperature had been raised a few   
degrees. "Why couldn't Kunzite have done that?" I wondered. "And...  
would I want him to?"   
  
I wrung my hands under the table, distressed that I really   
didn't have an answer to that question except maybe, maybe if things   
would have been different. If the date had ended with him on my   
doorstep instead of with me knocked out cold in the dark, then maybe I  
would have kissed him. I might have even welcomed, no, I would have   
enjoyed it. But now? Now was an entirely different story.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I opened the door of my apartment and I gasped. A trail of   
crimson red rose petals started at my door. I removed my wig and   
placed it reverently on the couch, not willing to disturb this thing  
of beauty that was my apartment, lest I ruin it. Curiously, I   
followed the trail to see where it led, my heart pounding in my ears.   
I wasn't sure if I should be scared out of my wits or incredibly   
turned on. I mean, how could anyone get into my apartment without my   
knowledge? Was it someone I wanted in my apartment, or was it some   
kind of sick joke? My feet tread delicately next to the trail, and I   
quickly discerned that the trail led straight to my bedroom. I nib-  
bled on my lip. Only one man would dare to do such a thing, and as I   
entered my room and raised my head, I was not disappointed. Kunzite   
sat by himself on a chair that faced my bed, and he looked up at me.   
"What are you doing here, Kunzite?" I asked, putting my hands on my   
hips.  
  
"I wanted to see you," he said simply.  
  
"You have some nerve coming in here like this," I said,   
crossing my arms over my chest.  
  
"Nerve? More like…desperation. I really messed things up,   
Minako."  
  
"Yes," I replied. "Yes, you did."  
  
"I was thinking…maybe you'd forgive me if you saw me face to   
face."  
  
"Why on earth would that make any difference?" I asked,   
narrowing my eyes and choosing to ignore the throbbing pulse in my   
stomach.  
  
"Because," he said, walking over to me and placing his hands   
on my shoulders. "Because I love you."  
  
Startled, I stepped back, but for every step I took backwards,  
he took a step forwards, his hands still on my shoulders, until I had   
backed myself into a wall. "What the hell kind of answer was that?" I  
said, my breath coming out as ragged gasps.  
  
"Well," he said, smiling, "Maybe this would be a better   
answer." At that, he leaned his head forward, and then he began to   
close the distance between our lips. "What the-" I began, my words   
being cut off succinctly when his mouth formed a seal over mine. I   
wasn't expecting anything like that, and once again, I, the self-  
proclaimed goddess of love, was stumped. Now what?  
  
He seemed to sense my question, as he led the kiss with   
surprising expertise. By the time he had finished, my lips were   
tingling, and my thoughts were in complete disarray. I opened my eyes  
and saw for the first time, that Kunzite had truly meant what he said.  
He smiled nervously, as if he were a shy schoolboy, earnestly seeking   
my approval. I had never seen him look so vulnerable.  
  
Still, I was confused, very confused. Wasn't this the man   
with whom I was not even on speaking terms? Didn't I hate that man?   
What, in God's name, had just happened? And why did I like it? 


	8. No Logic

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Chapter 8  
No Logic  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"Sorry, I..." stammered Kunzite, "don't know what came over   
me." He dropped his hands from my shoulders and began to turn around.  
  
I gave a small grin. "Hah!" I thought, smiling wryly. I   
pulled his muscular frame towards my own and wrapped my arms around   
his neck. "And where do you think you're going, mister?" I asked, my   
breath tickling his nostrils.  
  
"M-minako?" He questioned.  
  
I said nothing in reply, but pulled his unresisting face   
towards mine. I had the pleasure of watching his eyes go wide before   
I closed my own. "Bet he wasn't expecting that," I thought. I snaked  
my hands around his middle and began working on the buttons of his   
shirt.  
  
Kunzite got into the act and found my zipper, but then I   
remembered myself and stepped back. "No," I said.  
  
"Huh?" was his only reply.  
  
"We can't," I said, breathing heavily. My heart was   
threatening to leap out of my chest.  
  
"Why?" he asked.  
  
"Because you're not like other guys," I breathed, gazing at   
him through lowered lashes. "I can't do this to you."  
  
He said nothing in response, but nodded his head politely and   
redid the top four buttons of his shirt.   
  
"What the hell are you thinking, girl! Go for it!" my   
treacherous hormones screamed as I stared at him. "Let him take you!   
He's ready, you're ready!"   
  
"No," replied my conscience. "This isn't the right time."  
  
"Why not?" whined the pulse that throbbed through my body,   
coursing through my overheated veins.  
  
"Because we weren't speaking to him five minutes ago, that's   
why!"  
  
My hormones said nothing in response, but simply stopped   
speaking to each other. I smacked my forehead and allowed my   
breathing to return to normal. How could I start something like this?  
I'm such an idiot.   
  
He sat in my bed, and I sat cross-legged across from him. I   
didn't say anything for a long time, just sat there and attempted to   
collect my scattered thoughts. This was some scenario for the Goddess  
of Love. Here, I had a gorgeous man in my bedroom, and I had made it   
clear that I wasn't going to follow through. I wanted to, though,   
desperately. It took all of my willpower not to leap across the bed   
and kiss the sweet breath out of him.   
  
So why was I hesitating? I wasn't afraid of any pain I would   
feel, per se. Kunzite looked like the kind of man who knew how to be  
gentle. What was I afraid of? I was afraid of what it would do to   
me, to be so connected to...well, anyone. I had just come to terms   
with knowing he loved me. I knew I was attracted to him, very   
attracted, maybe even in love, but I didn't know anything else beyond   
that.  
  
"So, now what?" I asked.  
  
"That's up to you," he replied.   
  
"I've got to go," I sighed. Looking down, I got up to take a   
long, cold shower, by myself.  
  
When I had toweled off and was thoroughly decent, I walked   
back into my bedroom to find that I was completely alone. "Geez," I   
thought to myself. "My life is never easy." Then again, didn't I   
want it this way? I pondered that question as I dried my hair and put  
on my pajamas. I pulled the covers over my body, but my eyes   
instantly snapped open. My body ached for the feel of his arms around  
it, and I knew sleep would not come easy that night.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I threw on my disguise of the day, which was a flame-colored   
wig, a black dress, a matching purse, boots that reached my calves and  
a pair of large, vintage sunglasses. I smiled as I looked at the   
stranger in the mirror. "Damn," I thought, shaking my head at myself.  
"I'm starting to like this disguise thing a little TOO much." Maybe   
it was because it was nice to be someone else for a while, even if   
that time only lasted an hour or so. Then I would be changed once   
again into Venus, goddess/supermodel. "Ugh," I thought. "I am NOT   
looking forward to this."   
  
Maybe I should dye my hair, cut it short and buy some colored   
contact lenses. Maybe I should change my look for real, for good.   
Maybe it was time to stop being Venus, and to learn what it's like to  
truly be human. "But what about Mom?" I wondered. "What about her?"   
I shot back, grimacing at that hateful reason I still have this stupid   
job. If it wasn't for Mom, I could have been a volleyball player, a   
teacher, a singer; hell, I could have been anything, maybe even happy.  
I shook my head and applied the last coat of lipstick, and then I   
puckered my lips twice for effect.   
  
"Meow," Artemis said as I stood at the door.  
  
"Silly kitty," I said, kneeling down to pet his cute little   
head. This was strange...Artemis had never done this before.   
Usually, he eats his breakfast and goes back to sleep until I return   
after work. "Why would you want to go outside? Do you want to go to   
work with me?"  
  
Artemis said nothing, of course, and rubbed himself against my   
boot. "I'll miss you too, cutie," I said, scratching once behind his   
ears before opening the door.  
  
As soon as I did, I was startled to see a platinum blonde head   
fall back into my doorway. It took all of ten seconds for it to   
register in my mind that it was Kunzite. At that, something inside of  
me snapped, and I knew I loved him. I had always loved him, even when  
I wasn't aware of it yet. "Did he stay here all night?" I pondered.   
"Why would he do something like that?" Deep down, I knew why Kunzite   
would rather spend the night outside my door than in his apartment.   
For some strange reason, he wanted to be near me. I shrugged my   
shoulders, smiling wryly. There was no accounting for some people's   
taste in women.  
  
I stood there for a moment longer, studying his peaceful   
features. He was...beautiful. There was simply no other way to   
describe him, and bear in mind that I work with male models, some of   
the most handsome, supposedly eligible men in Tokyo. He looked like   
a little lost child, except for the trace amount of stubble that had   
formed around his jaw line. During my slight stupor, Artemis seized   
the opportunity to prance up to Kunzite's face and give it a sound   
licking.  
  
"Arte-MIS!" I moaned.   
  
"Mornin', beautiful," murmured Kunzite, slowly opening his   
eyes. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
I smiled. "Yeah. Um...come in," I said, gesturing towards   
the aging rose petals that traced my hallway.  
  
"Thanks," he said, rising to his feet.  
  
"Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything?" I asked as I   
ushered him over to the couch. Artemis made quick work of jumping on  
Kunzite's lap and getting re-acquainted.  
  
"Nah, I'm okay," he said, running his hands through Artemis's   
silky fur.  
  
"Oh, okay," I said, walking back into the room. I threw off   
my wig and sunglasses - after all, I wasn't hiding from him.  
  
"I hate to bring this up," I said, pacing nervously, "but I   
need to get this out in the open."  
  
"Okay," he said, patting a spot on the couch next to him and   
Artemis.  
  
I smiled and sat across from Kunzite. "Are you part of the   
yakuza or not?"  
  
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I was afraid   
you might say that."  
  
"Well?" I asked, arching my eyebrows together.  
  
"Yes and no," he replied, letting out a shaky laugh through a   
wobbly smile.   
  
"What the heck does that mean?" I demanded.  
  
"I haven't done anything illegal, if that's what you're   
thinking," he said.  
  
"O...kay," I said, scratching my head. "So you're part of the  
yakuza...but you haven't committed any crimes? Something's not making  
sense here, Kunzite."  
  
"As you probably know, the yakuza is a hereditary organization."  
  
"Meaning...what, exactly?" I asked, motioning with my hand.  
  
"If one family member is involved, they all are. Period." I   
looked at him and waited for him to elaborate. "I'm not in the   
Crimson Fist, Minako, but my brother is. I'm trying to get him out."  
  
"Out? Of the yakuza? Are you insane?" I asked. "You don't   
get out of the yakuza!"  
  
"Well, I was hoping to do this quietly, sans police. That's   
why I followed him alone at the casino that night."  
  
"That card dealer is your brother?"  
  
"Yes," he said, sighing. "He's my younger brother."  
  
"I think I know what you mean," I said, and Kunzite nodded his  
head slowly. "Why don't you call the police?"  
  
"He would be killed," Kunzite responded simply. "I can't risk   
it."  
  
I said nothing, and then Kunzite filled the silence.   
"Minako," he said, gripping my hand, dislodging Artemis from his lap,   
"You are in terrible danger."  
  
"I know," I said, placing my other hand on his reassuringly.   
  
"You must leave town. They'll kill you," he said; worry   
shining through his icy blue eyes.  
  
"They can't take anything from me that I wouldn't want to   
lose, well, except for one thing," I said, lowering my eyelids.  
  
"What would that be?" asked Kunzite.   
  
"You," I admitted, turning around and sinking myself into his   
firm, toned chest. It felt good to say that, almost as good as being   
in his arms that encircled me. "I don't allow just any guy into my   
apartment," I said, grinning fiendishly and staring into his eyes.   
  
"I'm...serious...Minako," he said between kisses.   
  
"So am I," I responded, propping my head on my elbows. "I'm   
not letting those bastards take over my life."  
  
"Well, will you at least promise me one thing?" I think the   
look in my eyes gave me away; I would have agreed to almost anything   
at that point. I nodded my head anyhow. "Let me be there for you,"   
he said, his breath tickling my nose.   
  
I said nothing in response, but it didn't matter. I smiled   
happily and settled into his warm embrace. I closed my eyes, and   
began to drift off, when I remembered something. "Um...Kunzite? I   
have to go to work," I said, frowning.   
  
I heard no replies except gentle snoring. He was fast asleep,  
but even in his slumber, he wouldn't let me go. Truth be told, I   
didn't want to leave, but I had already missed an important shoot. At  
the very least, I should try and make up the work if I can. It's true   
that I hate my job, but I don't want to be unprofessional. I gently   
loosened Kunzite's grip and slid out from his embrace. I gave him a   
little kiss on the forehead, sighed and walked away, hating every   
footstep. It took all of my willpower to walk away from him, and even  
more not to turn back. I shook my head at myself. He was turning me   
into a weak woman.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
As I stepped out of the cab, I knew I would have a lot of   
explaining to do. How would I go about doing so? I groaned inwardly  
as I walked past the front desk in the lobby.  
  
"Miss Aino, where have you been?"   
  
I turned around to face the source of the question, and my   
blood seemed to freeze into icy plasma in my veins. It was Fen Yuy,   
tabloid reporter. "Come on, Aino, pull yourself together! Since when  
are you afraid of Fen?"   
  
Honestly, I'm usually not afraid of Fen. She stood a mere   
5'1", and I would guess she weighed in at 150 pounds, slightly   
overweight for her medium build. She wears her medium-length,   
chestnut hair in a low, loose ponytail that reaches about a quarter   
of the way down her back. She wears a minimum of makeup, but her   
laid-back attitude belies her no-nonsense appearance.   
  
Fen doesn't know how to be a phony, which is very, very rare   
in any profession, especially hers. When she laughs, she does so with  
her entire being, closing her hazel eyes and tilting her chin upwards.  
  
I guess that's what I like the most about her, but also what   
I hate. It's too bad I only see her at work, and that her job is to   
exploit me. I know she likes me as a person, but her first priority   
is to her job, and as such, I can't be her friend. She would get too  
close, and I would wind up worrying if she would let leak some juicy   
secrets that I'd rather keep private. She wouldn't make any up; she   
would tell the truth. That's what makes her my enemy.   
  
I corrected my posture, leaned forward and gave Fen my full   
attention, so I could ignore her properly later. "Fen," I replied   
curtly, "I was called away on personal business."  
  
"Right, Aino, who's the guy?" she asked, elbowing me   
conspirationally as we walked towards the elevator.   
  
I raised my eyebrows at her as the double doors slid shut.   
"That's none of your business," I snapped, pushing the button for my   
floor.  
  
She rolled her eyes and laughed, squaring her shoulders to   
mine. "Hah! Long night, Aino?"  
  
"Excuse me?" I asked, crossing my arms.   
  
"You know what I mean. So, what's his name?"  
  
I pondered giving her a fake name, but that wouldn't be fair   
to her or me. Enemy or not, Fen is still a person. "His name? I'll  
let you figure that one out yourself, Fen. You're good at that," I   
replied, gritting it out of my teeth.   
  
"Don't toy with me, Aino. I know that it's Kunzite. I must   
say, I'm quite jealous," she said, smiling. "He's quite a catch."  
  
I groaned inwardly, knowing full well that I had been caught.   
I thought back to my date, and realized that I wasn't in my disguise;   
in fact, I could not have been more conspicuous. I wanted to smack my  
forehead, but I refused to give Fen the satisfaction of seeing me   
squirm. I turned around, smiled at her and said, "Well, it's been   
nice talking to you." I waited for the double doors to open, then I   
added, "but this is where I get off. Have a great day." I smiled,   
feeling her eyebrows come together in a tight, bushy knit, focusing   
on my back. At least some things never change.   
  
Feeling good about my victory against Fen, I sauntered into my  
dressing room. I sat down at the dressing table and gasped as I saw   
a long, thin sheet of paper. Any sense of happiness was shattered.   
It read, in huge, bold, black letters, "YOU'RE DEAD, MINAKO AINO." 


	9. Through The Glass, Darkly

35 Millimeters II - Behind the Lens  
by Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 9 - Through a Glass, Darkly  
  
"Minako? Are you okay?"  
  
I jumped up in my seat, then I hastily shoved the letter under a pile of old magazines. I whipped my head around to face the speaker, and then I sighed in relief. "Yeah, I'm fine, Levina." I laughed shakily and pasted on a smile.  
  
"No, you're not," she responded, frowning. "Something about that piece of paper you were reading has you really spooked."  
  
"Spooked? Me? Nah, you just startled me, that's all." I said, smoothing back a piece of hair.  
  
"Are you sure? You look pale to me. Is there something you'd like me to pray for?"  
  
I wondered what to say next. It's not that Levina isn't trustworthy; she's one of the few honest people in this business… well, if Levina was anything like her God and nothing like her sister, anyways. Still, how specific could I be? There was a good chance that I was being watched; I wouldn't put it past the yakuza to slip an informant into Tokyo Inc., and it would probably be someone who worked with me on a regular basis.   
  
"Yeah, I'm going through a rough time right now. Pray for me to have peace of mind."  
  
Levina smiled at me; she knew how hard it was for me to impart even that generic kind of information. "Sure. I'll pray for you." She closed her eyes, bowed her head and placed a hand on my head. She spoke to God quietly, but with a firm sense of certainty. I didn't think it would help, but something in her gentle voice made me feel better, like love was washing over me. She took her hand off my scalp and gave my head a final pat.   
  
"Thanks, Levina," I said honestly.   
  
"You know I'm here if you want to talk," she said.   
  
"Yeah, I know. So, what's on the agenda today?"  
  
"Heat, hairspray, gel, mousse, and more of the same," she said, grinning. She reached over my shoulder and began to work a thin layer of mousse into my hair. I relaxed and let her magic fingers do their work.   
  
"So, where's Rubina?" I asked casually.  
  
I felt Levina's fingers tense up a bit as she said, "I have no idea."  
  
"Did she say when she's coming in? I need my best makeup artist on the job, here."  
  
Levina smiled a bit. "You're just sore because you missed Michelle yesterday."  
  
I groaned. "At least yesterday wasn't a total loss."  
  
Levina grabbed the hair dryer and laughed. "I think I saw here carrying a dozen roses, too."  
  
"Not the red ones again?" I sighed. Michelle is another makeup artist employed by Tokyo Inc. She's skilled at what she does; in fact, she's probably even more skilled than Levina. Professionally, I really don't have any problems with her, but it gets awkward when she wants to get more…personal with me. Last week, she bought me two-dozen long stemmed roses and hung around the makeup room all day, even though she undoubtedly had other clients to assist. I keep trying to tell her that I'm not interested, but it doesn't quite seem to sink in, somehow. Once, she tried to kiss me…it makes me cringe just thinking about it. She's a sweet girl and all…but let's just say my bus doesn't stop there.  
  
"No, I believe they were definitely crimson."  
  
"Oh, please. You can't possibly approve of this," I shouted over the blaring blow-dryer, arching my eyebrows at the mirror.  
  
"Of course I don't," she yelled back. "But I know God loves her, just like He loves everyone. Do you know what I'm trying to say here?"  
  
"Yeah," I replied.   
  
"I've been praying for you for a very long time," she said. "You're so special, Minako. He loves you special." I sat silently, but on the inside, I was fuming. My hands clenched into white, little fists, blood escaping from underneath my fingernails. If God loved me special, why was He allowing all of this to happen to me? Why didn't he heal my mom years ago?   
  
"I know you've been through a lot, Minako."  
  
"How did you-"  
  
"Know? Don't worry, nobody has told me anything…in fact, since the time I've worked with you, I haven't heard much about you at all, not the real you. I could see it in your face, in that split second after the flash bulbs went out, before the photographer clicked the cable release again and you remembered that you had to smile," Levina said, clicking off the hairdryer.   
  
I tensed a bit. How could she see all of that? She couldn't possibly have noticed, not unless what she had said was true, that she had been praying for me, possibly since the day I met her. Only a person who really cared would take that much notice of me. It made me wonder if God cared as much as his Levina did.  
  
"How can you say that God loves me? You can't possibly understand what I've been through," I snapped.  
  
"I don't pretend that I have all the answers," she continued. "I don't. All I know is that He takes a personal interest in each and every one of us."  
  
"What makes you so sure?" I asked. "This ought to be good," I thought wryly.  
  
"Everything, Minako. I can see Him everywhere, in the rising of the sun, the stars in the heavens, and the more I look, the more of Him I see. We're not alone. None of us are."  
  
"Oh, swell, another sermon," snapped a voice coming in from the doorway.  
  
"Hello, Rubina," said Levina, smiling politely at her sister. She merely grunted in reply; she wasn't paying any attention anyways. Her gaze was fixed squarely on the pile of magazines on the makeup counter, almost as if she was looking for something. She squinted, then rifled briefly through the periodicals.  
  
"Did you lose something?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm looking for last September's Vogue. There's this really cool blush trick I wanted to try on you," she said, smiling. She flipped through one last magazine, and then she pulled out a piece of paper. "Yeah, this is the one. Okay, let's get started, shall we?"   
  
"This is really strange," I thought. "She's never smiled at me like that before, and since when is Rubina so professional? Why is she being so nice all of a sudden?"   
  
I tried to brush the thought aside as she put on the first layer of concealer, but something kept nagging me. I racked my brains for hours on end to find out what it was, but it didn't hit me until I went back into my dressing area at the end of the day. It was the piece of paper Rubina had ripped out was laying flat on the table. It wasn't even an article, nor was it even remotely tied into any kind of makeup. It was an ad for perfume.   
  
I frowned. Something was very, very wrong...and I wasn't about to stick around long enough to find out. I said a brief goodbye to Levina, and resolved to approach the problem again later - from a distance. I pulled on my disguise of the day, the red wig, black dress, and sunglasses from that morning, and I left as calmly and quickly as possible.  
  
"The question is," I thought to myself while I hailed a taxi, "What kind of distance are we talking about here?" I mused about it as the yellow cab swung by the curb where I stood in my stilettos. I had told Kunzite I wasn't leaving because I refused to allow the yakuza to take over my life. Still, how would I go about making sure I even have a life in Tokyo, or anywhere else on this side of life, for that matter? Once the yakuza are involved, they do everything they can to ruin the life of their victim before taking it altogether. More than likely, they would kill one of my friends, or worse yet, Kunzite. Maybe he'd know what to do; after all, he has experience with dealing with organized crime. Maybe I'd even escape this situation alive. "Well," I thought, grinning sardonically, "I can always hope."  
  
Once in the confines of my apartment, I dialed Kunzite's number, which I had obtained by looking over my caller I.D. My fingers twitched as I touched the digits…I hate feeling helpless like this. I've always prided myself on my independence, so I really hate asking for help. To my relief, he answered the phone at the first ring. "Hello?"   
  
"Hey, Kunzite. It's Minako."  
  
"How are you doing?" he asked.  
  
"Not well," I said, curling the telephone wires coil around my index finger. "Can you come over?"  
  
"Sure. I'll be right over," he said, and I heard a click, followed by a dial tone.  
  
Three seconds later, I heard a knock at the door. "GAHHH!" I screamed.  
  
I heard a plaintive, muffled voice. "Minako?"  
  
I walked over to the door, passing my hand over my forehead in relief. "Kunzite!" I exclaimed, arching my eyebrows, arms akimbo "How did you do that?"  
  
He turned over his hand and smiled. "Cell phone."  
  
"Well, do come in," I said, making a sweeping gesture with my arm. I walked over to the couch and patted the space next to me. He sat down, put his arm around me, and then he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.  
  
"So, what's wrong?"  
  
"It's Rubina, this girl I work with. She's been acting really weird lately…oh yeah, and I got this at work today," I said, fishing the written death threat out of my pocket.  
  
The color drained out of his face as he read the death threat, almost as if he was in danger instead of me. "Geez, Minako, this is serious," he said, frowning,  
  
"I know," I said, sighing. "That's why I called. I figure this probably has to do with whatever happened at the casino, so maybe-"  
  
"I'd know something about it?" he finished.  
  
"Yeah," I amended lamely, twirling my hair around my finger. "So what do you make of it?"  
  
"Well, this paper is really thin. That and the moiré pattern suggest to me that this was faxed." he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "How do you think this Rubina person ties in to this?"  
  
"She's been nice to me. She's never nice to me. Also, she looked very carefully through a magazine pile, the one I hid this thing in," I said, pointing to the fax in Kunzite's hand. "When I asked her what she was looking for, she lied about it."  
  
"Yeah, that does sound fishy," said Kunzite. "Maybe she had something to do with the fax. She could be a spy. If that's the case, you have got to leave town. Even your work is no longer safe."  
  
"I know," I said, sighing. "I'm still not leaving. If I did something abrupt, my friends could get killed or something."  
  
"Hn…yeah, you've got a point there. It's a miracle they haven't killed me yet," he said, running his hands through his hair in a quick, nervous motion.  
  
"Don't say that," I said, gripping his shoulders. "That's not even funny. I don't want to even think about losing you."  
  
"Believe me, the feeling is more than mutual," he said through a hoarse whisper. "Can I take this to Mamoru? He might know something," he said, cupping my chin.  
  
I nodded my head, as much as I could in my current predicament, anyways. I didn't have much more time to say anything else, for the next thing I knew, he was placing gentle, yet persuasive butterfly kisses on my lips. I can't really explain it, but it was almost like he was asking my permission to let him in. It was more than that, though, I thought as his kisses increased in tempo and pressure. The inquiry passed through his lips, though not in words; "Do you trust me?"   
  
I pursed my lips for what must have been a microsecond. I didn't know why; maybe it was some kind of instinct, but I did trust him, with all of my heart. I responded in kind, opening my mouth and taking the kiss for all it was worth until we ran out of oxygen. After that, we were silent for a moment, except for the sound of our labored, synchronized breathing. "I want to protect you," he murmured into my hair. I snuggled closer into his embrace as my breathing returned to normal, my head resting under his and over his chest. "Maybe accepting a little help now and again isn't such a bad thing," I mumbled, already half asleep.   
  
I awoke to the smell of soy sauce and the sounds of sizzling stir fry coming from the kitchen. "How long did I sleep?" I yelled, even though it was made obvious by the sunlight streaming through my Venetian blinds.  
  
"Through the night. You hungry?" Moments later, I saw my "master chef," clad in my favorite apron, hair tied up in one of my ponytail holders. It was so cute that I couldn't help but laugh. "What?" he asked, giving me a Look.  
  
"It's just…you look…" I stammered, but soon my laughter took over my voice box. "Like a Martha Stewart cross-dresser!"  
  
"Ah, that," he said, letting a small chuckle escape. "Well, I asked myself, 'Do I look fat in this apron?' So I had no choice, really; I needed your hair tie to accessorize," he finished with a fruity flick of the wrist, sending soy-covered beef flying onto the floor, which Artemis was only too happy to lick up.  
  
"You moron," I said, stretching my arms over my head. "That makes absolutely no sense."  
  
"You're right," said Kunzite, returning to the stove. "The hair tie doesn't go with this apron at all."  
  
I shook my head at him and walked into the kitchen. "It smells great. Thanks," I said, sitting down at the table and smoothing out my hair as best as I could.  
  
"What can I say," he said. "I aim to please. It's just about done now anyways." He turned the stovetop off and spooned out some stir-fry onto a pair of plates. I licked my lips and happily dug in. My nose was right; he was an excellent cook. I wonder if he and Zoisite took cooking lessons from Makoto.  
  
"How long did you let me sleep? I mean, were you just stuck there?"  
  
"Not nearly long enough. You're really cute when you're asleep," he said, smiling.  
  
I wondered if he could possibly be serious. Why would anyone want to watch me sleep? It couldn't be all that interesting. Then again, maybe sleeping men hold the same charm for their female watchers. "I bet he looks really hot when he's asleep," I thought. "I wonder…does he sleep in his boxers, in pajamas, or…" I flushed deep crimson as my thought completed its evolution. Maybe I needed another cold shower. Then again…those things are even less fun than I thought they would be. I opted to pass on that for the time being.  
  
"I sent a copy of that fax to Mamoru," he said, picking up a piece of cabbage with his chopsticks. "He thinks it was probably Beryl who sent it. He put it up next to her handwriting, and they match."  
  
"How does he know that?"  
  
"Signatures, forms, and the like. You do know that Beryl's the leader of his competitor, Bixbite Inc.?" he asked me.  
  
"Yeah. Mamoru does talk about his work every now and then." I replied, taking a sip of water.  
  
"The strangest thing is that the fax came straight from Chiba Inc, out of my office of all places. I guess there's a mole hiding in Chiba," he mused, crossing the empty chopsticks absently.  
  
"Gee, I wonder who that could be," I thought. "Danburite?"  
  
"Probably," said Kunzite, sighing. "I had hoped that Danburite wasn't in that deep, but it doesn't look like I can yank him out of the yakuza, not without the police."  
  
"But wouldn't that boost his reputation amongst the Crimson Fist?" I asked.  
  
"Not necessarily," said Kunzite. "If he received the original message from Beryl, which Mamoru and I suspect he did, then he's already her senior, her second in command."  
  
"So he can't really gain any more prestige." I mused.  
  
"Well, he'd look good in the eyes of Beryl's underlings, but that won't really help him any. Their loyalty is to her, not Danburite," said Kunzite.  
  
"I'm sorry," I said simply. "I didn't want this to go so far."  
  
"Don't worry about it," he said, sighing. It was clear that he had done enough worrying on his own. "He'd be involved whether you were or not. I guess I'll have to release the evidence to the police. That makes things even more dangerous for you."  
  
"I know," I said. "But I'm still not leaving."  
  
"Then neither am I," he returned.  
  
"You mean you're moving in?"  
  
"Don't worry; I'll be the perfect gentleman," he said, holding up his hands so his palms were facing me.   
  
I raised my eyebrow. "What if I don't want you to?"  
  
Kunzite unbuttoned the top of his vest and stretched it out, his face flushing deep red. "Excuse me," he said. With that, he bolted towards the bathroom, locked the door and turned on the shower water. "At least I'm not taking the cold shower," I mused. He was in there for a good half hour, and my suspicions about the temperature were confirmed when he exited, fully clothed and toweled off. There wasn't a trace of steam on the bathroom mirror.   
"You can have the guest bedroom," I said, gesturing for him to follow. "Do you need anything from your apartment?"  
  
"Nah, I'm fine."  
  
"So why did you run off?" I asked. "I know how you feel about me."  
  
"Because," he said, stroking my cheek. "I won't defile you, not until and if we get married."  
  
"What about the other day?"  
  
"We got carried away, and after I calmed down, I was relieved that I didn't…follow through."  
  
"Wait a minute," I said, crossing my arms. "Does that mean you're religious or something?"   
  
"Yes and no," he returned. "'Yes' in the sense that I follow Scripture, 'no' meaning I don't do things to attain God's approval; I act in response to it."  
  
"So you're approved, are you? Lovely," I mumbled, staring at the hard wood floor. "So what are you doing with a heathen chick like me?" He didn't say anything for a moment, and I raised an angry face to him. "What kind of God would allow this? Show Him to me!" I demanded.  
  
"I am," he replied without malice, "the only way I know how." With that, he gave me a peck on my forehead and shut the door gently behind him. 


	10. Ace in the Hole

Chapter 10 - Ace in The Hole  
  
I stood in front of the doorway for what seemed like hours. I don't know what I was waiting for. Maybe I expected Kunzite to come rushing out of the guest bedroom, saying he had changed his mind. Or maybe he would be trying to get to my bedroom through the fire escape that began below my bedroom window and wrapped itself around the complex. No, that can't be true; there is no fire escape leading out from his window. There was a narrow ledge directly under the window, wide enough for two average sized feet and nothing more. If he placed his feet sideways and walked very carefully, he could make it to the fire escape on the other side of the penthouse. "But he wouldn't do that," I thought desperately as I walked to my own bedroom, "would he?"   
  
I realized that deep down I wanted him to try. I wanted to see him make the near-impossible effort just to get to me, to seduce me, just so I could laugh in his face and banish him to the guest bedroom, a fitting punishment for trifling with the likes of me. "Hah! That'd serve him right," I said, rubbing my hands together. I waltzed up to his bedroom door and raised my fist to its cool, wooden surface. I drew my arm back, and then I stopped. I couldn't do that to him. I can't use my body like a weapon, to seduce him and then knock him cold. I didn't know much about sex, but I was pretty sure it wasn't meant to hurt people.   
  
I dropped my arm, then walked over to the TV. "Yep," I thought, "There's nothing like vapid, mindless backwash to get my mind off my own problems." I don't know why I even bought a TV set; I never watch it. It is a beauty though; at least that's what the eager salesman that sold it to me said. It's one of those flat TV sets that you can mount on your wall, and I must confess, the novelty of having a TV set hanging like a piece of art intrigued me. Supposedly, it's all digital with surround sound, or something like that. The eager salesman convinced me to buy a matching DVD player and VCR. "Why did I buy all of that junk?" I asked myself. I smiled as the memory came to me; the salesman was actually pretty cute.  
  
I had walked into the store with the Usagi, Rei, Makoto and Mamoru on a rainy Friday night. It was about a year ago, back when Ami was still in med school. We had tried to convince her to come with us, but she had dismissed us with a flick of her wrist, a pencil tucked neatly behind her ear, saying she had to study. Mamoru was eager to visit, saying he wanted to try out the new DVD players.   
  
"Mamo-chan," said Usagi, a grin spreading across her face, "we don't need a DVD player. We already have one."  
  
"I know, love, but this one's cutting edge stuff," he said; arm tightly linked with his wife's. "The sound quality's absolutely amazing, or that's what I hear, anyways."  
  
"Right," teased Rei, "You know you just want another one of your gadgets. Like I always say, the only difference between a grown man and a boy is how much money they spend on their toys." She finished her sentence then glared at Usagi, who had been lip-synching with her the whole time.   
  
"Come on, Rei, that's not fair! Don't go using your psych stuff on me," said Mamoru, pretending to be hurt.  
  
"Yeah, not everyone has a bachelor's in psychology," I pointed out.  
  
"That wasn't psychology," said Rei. "Just an observation. Guys are all alike-"  
  
"Are we now?" said a voice from behind us. Rei whirled around to face the stranger who dared to oppose her, and we all stopped to watch. He was about Mamoru's height, with blond hair and steely blue eyes that spit silent fire out of their gaze. His arms were crossed over what must have been an impressive chest, and his long legs were together, feet facing forwards.   
  
Rei looked up at the handsome stranger for what must have only been a moment, but seemed like an eternity. "Yes," she said quietly. "Yes, you are."  
  
"Ah, hello, Jadeite. I didn't expect to see you here," said Mamoru. "What brings you here at this godawful hour?"  
  
"You should know, Chiba. You never let me leave my desk!" He said it with a straight face, but his eyes were smiling.  
  
"Ouch," said Mamoru, grinning. "Anyways, have you found anything good?"  
  
I didn't pay attention to the conversation. Maybe that's how Jadeite convinced me to buy all that stuff. I didn't even see the salesman or know what I was doing until I had signed the last paper, then I realized my mistake. It didn't really matter anyways; I could easily afford it. Money hadn't concerned me for years.   
  
What I was thinking about was Rei, who was strangely silent during the dialogue. A slow smile worked its way into my cheeks as I absently stroked Artemis's fur, remembering the look on her face. For once, Rei Hino had been unable to come up with a witty retort.   
  
I hadn't been paying attention to the television set until I saw the words "special news bulletin" flash down the screen in bold, red letters. "A suspected yakuza member escaped from prison this morning, killing one police officer and wounding four. His whereabouts are currently unknown."   
  
"Great. Some nut job's loose on the streets. Just peachy," I thought, rolling my eyes. "Good thing I'm staying in tonight." My index finger reached for the off button, but in the split second before I pushed down, a familiar face flashed across the screen. I dropped the remote, my eyes going wide as I took in the information.  
  
"He is six feet tall and weighs 79 kilograms. He is armed and presumed dangerous. Do not approach this man; he is unstable. If you see him, contact the police at-"   
  
I wasn't paying attention to the number, for I had the feeling that it was far too late. I clicked off the television, dropping the remote in shock. I grabbed a blanket and held my shaking body as if it was going to fall to pieces. The escaped convict was none other than Danburite.   
  
Slowly and shakily, I got up and walked into the hallway that led to my bedroom. About halfway along, my knees gave out and I fell flat on my bottom. I felt no pain, only numbness. I drew my arms around my knees, slumped forward and cried brokenly. "Why does this have to happen to me, God? I don't deserve this kind of punishment! Nobody does!" I was vaguely aware that a door had opened, but I didn't care. I was so absorbed in my misery that I almost jumped when a pair of hands touched my shoulders. "I'd know that touch anywhere," I thought to myself.   
  
"What's wrong?" asked Kunzite.  
  
The fact that Kunzite was here, comforting me, even after the evil I had planned for him mere hours earlier, made me cry even harder. He sighed, took me into his arms and carried me off. "W-where are you taking me?" I asked between sniffles.   
  
He didn't say anything, and he set me down somewhere soft and warm. I didn't figure out where I was until he pulled a blanket up to my face. He sat down next to me over the covers, and the room was completely silent except for the sounds of my ragged breathing. I felt him getting up, and then I finally spoke. "It's Danburite. He's escaped from prison, and I'm going to die."  
  
"Minako, you're not going to die," he said, settling himself back in.   
  
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "I know what this is costing you."  
  
"It costs me nothing," he returned, stroking my hair, "Nothing I'm not willing to pay."  
  
"Is your God like that?" I asked.  
  
"No. He's not like me. I'm the one trying to be like Him. He'd lay down His life for you in a second; in fact, He already has."   
  
I gasped. "Does that mean he's…dead?"  
  
"No. He came back. Death couldn't hold the Son of God forever."  
  
I said something I didn't think I'd ever say, but the more I saw of people like Kunzite and Levina, the more my curiosity grew. "Tell me more about Him."  
  
Kunzite did his best to tell me all he knew about Christ, about pain and suffering, and how I could come to know Him for myself. "Would you like to pray with me?"  
  
I nodded feebly, and Kunzite led the prayer of surrender to Christ. "I finally did it, Kunzite. I stopped running."  
  
He kissed my hair in response, and I knew that he could see what I meant, that all of these years, I had been running from God. I had thought he was like my father, who was little more than a six-letter word. Even though I had never seen him, the venomous neglect still ran deep, coursed through my veins for years until I was walking dead. The poison was gone now, and for once, I felt like I had a fresh start, this time for real. "Well, you had better get yourself off to bed, Kunzite. I don't want to keep you waiting."  
  
He smiled, though I knew he didn't want to let go any more than I wanted him to leave. I knew that he would be only a wall away if I needed him, and even if he wasn't, that I wouldn't be alone.   
  
Still, I couldn't help but to wonder what would become of Danburite, and I prayed that none of his current plans revolved around me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It was a cold, misty night at the Lucky Buddha Casino, perfect for a suicide mission. It was more darkness than light, but rays of sunlight peeked through the cracks in the wall. Everything was gray and sawdust covered. "This is the last place I want to be," I thought to myself, and I asked myself for the millionth time why I had come here. But I had a score to settle, a promise to keep. I couldn't leave this place; whatever would happen now would be destiny. I took my cell phone out of my pocket, and then I dialed a number I had sworn to myself long ago that I would never use. "Hello, Tokyo police? Yes, I know I've escaped. I want you to…come and get me. Where am I? I'm at the Lucky Buddha Casino. I'll be waiting." I clicked the off button and threw the phone into the darkness. I wouldn't need it anymore.  
  
I wasn't scared, although I knew I damned well should be. Meeting Beryl was a bad idea, especially after I had crossed her before. I remember that night well; I was standing over Minako, protecting her from Beryl's wrath. Why had I done it? I don't know…some long-dormant instinct inside of me screamed that I had to protect her, even if it meant my life. I knew my brother had a thing for her, and that I would never win her love for myself. Wasn't that selfish anyways? I scoffed to myself. Love…honor…duty…those words mean nothing to me anymore…did they? It didn't matter anyways…it wouldn't matter for long.  
  
Beryl sat on a chair that was raised on a platform of stairs like some kind of demon queen. She was wearing a crimson dress. Maybe it was symbolic…maybe she knew why I had come. "Danburite," she purred, running a hand down her leg. I couldn't help but to shiver. The sound of her voice made me sick.  
  
I said nothing in response, just knelt down and reached down into my pocket. All too quickly, my hand came into contact with the cold steel blade. I took the knife out of my pocket and set it on the ground. I got out a long, white piece of string, and then tied it to my pinky, just tightly enough to cut off circulation. I gripped the knife with my other hand, raised it in the air, and the knife came into contact with my skin. I grimaced inwardly; this was really painful. Blood gushed out of the cut, but I paid it no heed. Instead, I pushed the knife all the way through, my flesh crying out for reprieve until the top digit fell, limp and useless, to the ground. I picked it up and wrapped it in a white handkerchief.   
  
Beryl said nothing, but continued to watch this sickening display. I almost thought that my yubizume had been successful. If she was silent, that meant she had accepted my sacrifice, that she had forgiven me, and I would live. But I'd be damned before I accepted her pity.   
  
Before she could signal the thug on her left to shoot, I ran up the stairs towards her. This was a tactical mistake, and I knew it. The goons behind her had guns, and all I had was a knife. Besides, I was running uphill, which put me at a deadly disadvantage. To make the odds even more impossible, I was missing a lot of blood. Still, if I could plunge the knife into her chest, then twist it for added measure it would all be over. Beryl would never claim a life again. I knew it was vain; a monster like Beryl does not die, she devours.   
  
Heedless of the bullets that pierced through my chest, I charged up the stairs, each step harder than the last. My feet felt like lead, and my breathing was ragged and uneven. One of those gunshots must have punctured a lung or something.   
  
I lunged at Beryl, and missed by a mile, barely touching her hair. I laughed deliriously; it didn't matter. Nothing did. The room swam in and out of focus, and I idly wondered if Minako had felt this. I knelt there, at Beryl's feet, police sirens blaring in my ears, and I waited for the bullet that would soon pierce my brain. "Minako," I murmured, and the darkness claimed me forever.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Minako…"  
  
I jolted out of sleep with a start. What a horrible nightmare! It didn't feel like a dream, though…it felt real somehow, like I was somebody else. I shook my head at such fanciful nonsense. Still, I could smell the sawdust in the air, taste the blood, and my pinky hurt like hell…  
  
Maybe some breakfast would cheer my head. Yeah, that's what I need. I walked into the kitchen and was greeted by a familiar face. "Morning, Kunzite."  
  
He said nothing in response, just continued to stare blankly at the morning paper. I stamped my foot impatiently. I was not going to be ignored! "Hello! You're wanted on planet Earth!" I snapped. When there was still no response, I walked over behind him to see what was so engrossing. "Front page…that's strange. Why would he be reading…" I gasped when I found the point where Kunzite's eyes were fixed. The headline boldly proclaimed "MAN KILLED AFTER YAKUZA SHOOTOUT, BERYL IN JAIL." I looked down a little lower and saw a picture of an ashen-haired young man lying face down in a black puddle that must have been his own blood. "Oh my God…" I mumbled absently, all color draining from my face. The nightmare I had last night was no dream…it had actually happened. Danburite was really gone. I shook my head, tears flowing freely. This wasn't supposed to happen! He was supposed to go back to prison…and live out his days there. He wasn't supposed to…just throw his life away as if it were nothing! "Kunzite, I'm so sorry," I said, placing my hands on his shoulders.   
  
"So am I," he replied flatly.   
  
Then I remembered the second part of the headline; Beryl was in jail? This was too good to be true. The article read:  
  
"Yakuza member Danburite Feldspar was found slain at Lucky Buddha casino. Police found Feldspar dead at the scene in front of Beryl Bixbite, who later pled innocent. The fingerprints on the gun that killed Feldspar were not Bixbite's, but those of her associate."  
  
"An autopsy revealed that Feldspar was shot multiple times in the chest, abdomen and the base of his skull. The last digit of the pinky on his left hand was missing, suggesting an unsuccessful yubizume. It is unknown why he contacted the police five minutes before his demise."  
  
"Bixbite is facing trial and is being held in Tokyo jail."  
  
"I want to see her, Kunzite."  
  
"Why?" he asked, folding the paper vertically, then horizontally.  
  
"I want to make sure that she's still in jail."  
  
He nodded, and all too quickly we arrived at Tokyo jail. "May I help you, miss?" asked the receptionist.  
  
"Yes, I'm here to see Ms. Bixbite."  
  
"Hn…I didn't expect her to have any visitors. May I have your names, please?"  
  
"Minako Aino and Kunzite Feldspar."  
  
"Feldspar, huh? Weird." She paused a moment, and I was afraid she wouldn't let us through. Just when I had given up, she said, "Very well, come this way." The receptionist led Kunzite and I through a narrow hallway and into a large room. "Wait here, please," she said. I nodded, and Kunzite gave my hand a squeeze. I smiled up at him gratefully. "Okay. The prisoner will see you now." I smiled at her and nodded.   
  
"You coming?" I asked Kunzite.   
  
"Do you need to ask?"  
  
"I suppose not," I said, squeezing his hand that still held mine. A door was shut behind me, and behind a thick, plastic screen was Beryl Bixbite. Her eyes held my gaze, never wavering. "Beryl," I said. The woman nodded in response. "You do realize that I have enough evidence to keep you here indefinitely, do you not?"  
  
"Bull," she hissed, adding a particularly nasty four-letter word. "You're bluffing."  
  
"I'm not. You know of Mamoru Chiba, ne?"  
  
"What of it?" she asked.  
  
"He has that little love note you had faxed to me. It matches your signature, Bixbite."  
  
"So? That's not enough to keep me here."  
  
"Maybe not, but Mamoru has a file on you that's a foot wide," said Kunzite.  
  
She said nothing, but I could tell from the way the color drained from her face that she was beaten. "What are you going to do with her, Minako? It's up to you," said Kunzite.  
  
I chewed on my lower lip. Beryl's life was in my hands now, not the other way around. I silently thanked God for protecting me, and I prayed for guidance. I stared at her through the glass; she looked very small somehow. All of the dark power she had held in the past was gone. Knowing this, I made my decision. "I won't have them kill you, Beryl." There was a glint of hope in her eyes, but it disappeared as I continued. "But I won't set you free. You'll rot in this prison cell. You have caused much suffering, Beryl. Now it's time for you to suffer. You'll die here, old, wrinkled and powerless."   
  
I turned around and walked out of the prison with Kunzite. I never saw Beryl again. Years later, I would read an article in the paper that said Beryl had been executed. I suspected that a member of the yakuza had arranged it, just as she had arranged the death of her husband.   
  
Kunzite drove me home, but when I got out of the car, Kunzite was still there. I knocked on the driver's side window, and it rolled down. "Bye, Minako," he said.  
  
"You're leaving me? Just like that?"  
  
He nodded. "I still want to be a part of your life. Maybe we could be…friends."  
  
"Friends?" I sputtered. "Are you insane?"  
  
"I suppose I am," he said, grinning.  
  
"You know very well that we can never be friends," I said.   
  
"I know," he replied. With that, he shut the window and sped away, out of my life. I stood there numbly, and then a tear rolled down my cheek. "Of course we can't be friends. We'll always be much more than that," I thought. I pivoted on my heel and returned to my apartment. I knew then that I would never see Kunzite again. 


	11. Truth in Advertising

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
35 Millimeters II: Behind the Lens  
by Lady Aishiteru  
Chapter 11: Truth in Advertising  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
I heard a knock at my door. "Maybe it's Usagi and Mamoru, here to cheer me up again." I shook my head at myself. Ever since Kunzite had left six months ago, I had been a miserable mope. Even Usagi's best efforts had done little to lift my spirits, and Mamoru's presence beside her served to remind me that I was still very much alone in the world.  
  
Every face I saw reminded me of Kunzite, and occasionally something would happen to remind me of his brief and shining love. Well, actually, everything reminded me of him. I can hardly even go grocery shopping anymore. Whenever I saw a cart full of junk food, I'd think of him. It got so bad that I couldn't even look at a box of Lucky Charms without getting misty eyed.   
  
I couldn't even listen to the radio anymore; every sappy love song would remind me of my loss. Instead, I listened to the messages he had left me on my answering machine, over and over again until I had memorized every word and I could almost "hear" his voice in my head. Hearing his voice made me feel like he was right there with me, telling me everything would be all right. I saw his face in the clouds and traced his shape on the window when I would sit and stare at the sky from my apartment.   
  
What really got to me was that he was in my life one moment and gone the next. He had been so caring and kind that I thought he would be with me forever. Just when I was getting to know him, he vanished without a trace, or even a reason. A reason would have been nice. I could hold on to a reason, maybe use its logic to remind me why I was really better off without him.  
  
It was sweet of Usagi and Mamoru to come, really, but I didn't want to see anyone. Maybe if I stayed in my apartment forever I would be okay. Artemis and I would live on Chinese takeout; he'd have chow mien and I'd have egg rolls and wonton soup. I'd operate some Internet business to stay financially solvent and watch reruns of Gilligan's Island. Nobody would ever see me or cause me any pain. I wouldn't feel anything at all. "Right, Aino," I thought, "and then you'll get mad because Gilligan keeps getting stuck on that stupid island." I laughed at myself, though it was probably true; it wouldn't work anyways. Man is not meant to be isolated forever, an island unto himself.  
  
The knocking continued, and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer. "Yeah, yeah, keep your shirts on," I mumbled. I opened the door and was face to face with a postal worker.   
  
"Delivery for you," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly.  
  
"Thanks," I relied curtly. I signed for the package and I left. It wasn't even anything good, not flowers, chocolates or even slightly romantic. It was a package of makeup from one of the cosmetics companies that wanted me to endorse them. I wanted to toss it out the window, but that wouldn't be fair to anyone. Besides, it wouldn't do me any good.  
  
Staring at the opened box, an idea occurred to me, a fiendish, brilliant idea from my Bible studies. Lately, I had been getting into the stories of women in Old Testament times. Far from being weak, these women kicked tail! A woman named Esther married the king of Babylon and saved her nation, while another, by cunning and trickery, killed the general of an opposing army. In the times before Israel had a king, a prophetess named Deborah ruled the country. My favorite story was that of a woman named Ruth. She was a stranger in a strange land, who trusted in God and her mother-in law, Naomi, and was later named amongst the lineage of Christ.   
  
Maybe I was like Ruth, a newcomer in the land of faith, chasing after an impossible dream. I can still remember how lonely I felt after moving to Japan with nobody except my mother. I'd be willing that Ruth might have felt lonely at times. All she had was Naomi, the kindness of strangers and trust in the Lord God of Israel. She had guts, that Ruth, real guts. I could relate to her, and I prayed that I had her courage, for I would surely need it if my plan were to succeed. This was risky business. "Well, desperate times call for desperate measures," I thought, grinning. I might not win back his love, but at the very least, I hoped for an explanation. Maybe that would put my demons to rest. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," I thought. I took the makeup out of the packages and went to work.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I took the key Mamoru had given me out of my pocket and turned it in its keyhole, granting me access to the apartment. I flicked the light switch to the "on" position and noted that there were boxes scattered sporadically throughout the main room, suggesting that Kunzite hadn't fully gotten settled in yet after his move. "I've seen his office; he's no slob. Maybe he was too busy with something," I thought to myself. Could that "something" have been me?   
  
I tiptoed over to the bedroom, careful not to wake him. As silently as possible, I opened the door. I could barely make out his shape; the only light in the room came from the hallway. I opened the door a little further and sat down in front of the door. After what seemed like an eternity, the sun slowly rose, peeking through the Venetian blinds like a striped shirt.   
  
Awed, I rose to my feet, and the view of the sleeper was well worth the wait. Kunzite was spread-eagled, flat on his back, his hair fanning out to his broad, uncovered shoulders. The way the light gleamed on his chest and his cheek was nothing short of spectacular; he looked like an angel. I listened to the sound of his breathing; he sounded so peaceful.   
  
A sinking feeling struck my stomach, and I didn't feel so good about my plan, about even being here anymore. Would this even work? I hadn't prayed or even asked my friends for advice. Ruth was acting on her mother-in-law's advice and Boaz acted upon cultural tradition. As for me, I was acting on a silly whim, a stupid idea, really. This probably wouldn't even work. It was better to have my memories than to barge into his apartment like the obsessed idiot that I am. What was I thinking?   
  
I blew a stray hair out of my eyes, pivoted on my heel and made my choice. "The heck with this; I'm going home." As silently as possible, I slinked out of the apartment like some kind of cat burglar, but once I was outside of the building, I put all subtleties aside. I stormed down the street, but it wasn't him I was mad at; it was me.   
  
Somehow, this all seemed eerily familiar. Yes, I had done this before, when I was dead set on telling him to leave me alone forever. Now I had marched over here like some righteous army of one to tell him to...damn it, I don't even know any more. Did I want him to come back on hands and knees like some beggar? Did I want revenge? Closure? I passed my hand through my hair and let out a weak laugh. As usual, I had acted without thinking. Maybe I should have been a superhero or something...I sure acted like I was one.   
  
I kept walking, not really caring where I was going. I guess I needed to think...to get away from there. Not only had I been impulsive, but I had also forgotten to seek God's will. I was so used to having no father or anyone to take care of me that I didn't know how to let go and let God. The sound of my pumps clicked against the pavement in agreement, and I knew it was true.   
  
I had always thought of trust as a weakness; I mean, to trust someone, you put your faith in him or her, and then it hurts that much more when they let you down in the end. I smiled to myself, glad that God wasn't that way, and that He would forgive me. I remembered a particular passage I had come across in 2 John that says that God is bigger than my doubts, even my self-condemnation. I didn't know what the future would bring. Maybe God would choose to bring Kunzite and I back together, then again, maybe not.   
  
Maybe I'd see him at Ami's wedding rehearsal. I guess things between Ami and Zoisite had gone even better than I had thought; after six months, he proposed to her. She said that he popped the question in a way that was totally romantic and spontaneous at the same time. It was a really great story, come to think of it. I practically had to force it out of her; she has this annoying little tendency to keep her love life private.  
  
I can remember when she brought it up, accidentally, like she always does. We were sitting at the Soda Shoppe, sipping our milkshakes, just before Motoki had arrived with the bill. Honestly, I don't even know why he bothers; Ami already had the price figured out before she got there, right down to the tip. She had taken her credit card out to pay for the bill and a piece of paper fell out, one that was far too shiny to be any kind of paper currency. When I looked at it a little closer, I realized that it was a sepia toned, five by seven inch photograph of her. That struck me as being really weird. First of all, Ami was the photographer, so it was strange to see her on the other side of the lens. Also, the photograph was in black and white, not color. Ami always had this thing for vintage photography; she says it's something about values and contrasts. Her camera was completely manual; all of the tiny little adjustments that an average point-and-click camera does for the user, like how much light to let into the camera, for instance, she likes to do herself. Her camera doesn't have a timer. For those reasons, she couldn't have taken the picture herself. In the photograph, Ami was sitting on her desk, and she had this expression on her face that was completely surprised and exhilarated at the same time. Unlike me, Ami's not prone to being emotional; she's usually on a pretty even keel. It must have taken something really amazing to provoke such a reaction, and I wanted to know what that was.  
  
"Wow, Ames, cool picture. Is that you?" I had asked.  
  
She nodded, a telltale blush creeping into her cheeks. "Zoisite took it the other day."  
  
"Wow. I didn't know he took pictures too. I thought he was leaving that up to you," I mused. Zoisite actually was one of Ami's clients at the time. What she did was to take an original picture and alter it in really cool ways. Zoisite had brought in a picture of himself, and she had altered it so many times that it looked nothing like the original. Also, as Ami loved to point out, it was costing him a fortune. Last time she named a price, it was about ¥132,460.  
  
"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding.   
  
"So...what happened?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, he just proposed to me," she said in a way that was so nonchalant that I spit out the shake I was drinking.  
  
"He WHAT?" I sputtered. She said nothing for a while, and her back was turned away from me. "Come on, you can't leave me hanging like this!" I whined, wringing my hands.  
  
"Well, okay, it actually is a really cool story," she said, smiling wistfully. "He had come into the shop after closing time, and he was completely soaked. He asked if he could come in and towel off." I nodded, urging her to continue. By this time, we were walking out of the restaurant and towards her car. "I said he could, I mean, it wasn't as if I didn't want to see him," she said, grinning.   
  
"This is getting good," I said, rubbing my hands together evilly.  
  
"Come on, get your head out of the gutter," she said, giving me a playful smack. "It wasn't like that. He was the perfect gentleman, I swear."  
  
"Sure he was," I said, knowing how much that kind of teasing bothered her.  
  
"He was!" she exclaimed. "Anyways, he asked me if I could borrow my camera. It was a really weird request - by this time, I had long since closed. What could he have possibly needed it for? The he goes and sets up the camera in the corner. It was really cute, actually. He looked like he was having some trouble, so I asked him if he needed any help. Then he whirled around out of nowhere and took my picture."  
  
"Did he say why?" I asked.  
  
Ami nodded. "It was really romantic. He said his picture wouldn't be complete unless I was in it with him."  
  
"So what did you say?" I asked. This was getting really good.  
  
"I didn't say anything," Ami said.  
  
"Nothing?" I asked.  
  
"Well, actually, I fainted," admitted Ami. "When I woke up, I was in his apartment, with a washcloth on my head and a migraine the size of Tokyo. I didn't even know if he had actually proposed, or if I had dreamt the whole thing up. That's when I saw a large manila envelope sitting right there on his coffee table. I opened it up, and there it was, clear as day."  
  
"There what was?" I asked, not quite sure where Ami was going with this.  
  
"The photo. While I was still looking at it, Zoisite comes over to me with this big bowl of tomato soup and a huge smile on his face. I asked him if any of this was real, and then he showed me the ring."  
  
"Annnd?" I asked, waving my hand for added emphasis.  
  
"Well," she flushed, "the rest is...personal."  
  
"Whoa," I thought, "Whatever happened after that must have been good to get her flustered like that."   
  
The wedding rehearsal had been scheduled for next week. I wondered if Kunzite would come up with something as creative as his friend and sweep me off my feet...no, probably not. Besides, hadn't he already done that? Who doesn't want a really hot guy placing rose petals down the hallway that leads to her bedroom? Who wouldn't fawn over such a careful and downright sexy gesture?   
  
Still, I'm nothing if not idealistic. It would be so sweet to be swept off my feet a second time, especially after such a lengthy absence. Who was I kidding, though? I doubt he even remembers that I exist. Guys like Kunzite don't stay single for long...but then again, one would think girls like me don't, either. I smiled at myself; I was being silly, fantasizing over the impossible once again, and I knew it. "Oh well," I thought. "I can always dream."  
  
I know what it's like to dream. I once dreamt of being a model; now I dream of being a girlfriend, maybe even a wife. Heck, maybe that will even happen someday...I mean, you never know, right? I know one thing...I don't want to be a model anymore. Ever since Kunzite left, I'd been rethinking a lot of things, like where my priorities are, and what I'd like to do with my life now that he's not in it.   
  
Still, Kunzite introduced me to another great guy, God. Yes, God. I'm not quite sure how to describe how I feel now that I've found Him. I still get sad sometimes, but underneath the pain is a sense of peace that I know wasn't there before. With each passing day, I find new reasons to believe in God's love. It was hard for me to find a church at first; like I said earlier, Japan's not exactly known for its Christianity. Believe it or not, I attend the same church as Levina.   
  
I don't work with her anymore, though; or I should say I'm not going to be for long. I decided to quit Tokyo Inc last month. Things got too weird for me after all of that business with the yakuza and all. Seeing Rubina on a day-to-day basis would only serve to remind me of those hellish days I spent living in fear for my life. I never really liked fame anyways. Purchasing my fifth wig was a real wake-up call for me...I mean, I put so much effort into my disguises and staying out of the ever-watchful eyes of the media. Wouldn't it be better for me to direct that energy elsewhere?  
  
I would have to be in the limelight one last time, though; it was time for me to make a graceful and unobtrusive exit. I'd scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning, bright and early. I wanted to get this over with as soon as I possibly could, and I knew that the press would have a lot of questions to ask me. I'd respond to them as honestly and politely as possible, since I don't plan on them being my enemies. Even though I've never been nice to them in the past, I'd like to leave as a friend. "If I'm not going to be a star anymore, the media will have no interest in me, and I can go on with my life...right?" I thought, scratching my head. I could fake my own death...it would be easier than a press conference. Then again, it's probably not such a great idea.   
  
It is pretty strange, now that I think about it; I'd be perfectly content to be a nobody. Actually, I'd never heard of anyone trying to stop being famous. People usually don't strive to be anonymous; I mean, who strives to be ignored? Most would rather be famous, to have their name in lights. It was quite thrilling at first, but it got old very quickly. The only people I want paying attention to me are my friends, and perhaps a certain tall and handsome platinum blond.   
  
"Stop it, Aino," I thought. "It's not going to happen." I thought I heard a voice calling me, but I blocked it out and blinked the tears away. "Great," I thought. "Now I'm hallucinating. That's just swell." I sighed and blew a rogue strand of hair away from my eyes. Maybe I should seek professional help. Then again...that would be coming too close to home. I'd feel as if I was turning into my mother, which is precisely why I'm quitting Tokyo Inc. It's ironic, really; Mom was the reason why I worked at Tokyo Inc. for so long, and now I'm quitting for fear of becoming her. I don't know if manic depression is hereditary, but either way, I don't want to chance it.   
  
I looked at the clock; to my dismay, it was only eight thirty. Well, it didn't matter. I had no reason to stay awake, and sleep was far easier than staying awake with my thoughts...well, in theory, anyways. After completing my nighttime ritual of washing my face, brushing my hair and cleaning my teeth, I walked over to the bedroom, pulled on my nightgown and settled into bed.   
  
Sleep would not come so easily; the second I placed my head on the pillow, my eyes snapped open. My heart pounded frantically in my chest as if it was a bird trying to escape. What was wrong with me? Was I nervous? "Come on, Aino, you've held hundreds of press conferences. Why is this one so different?"   
  
I shifted my body frantically under the blankets, but the only thing I accomplished was to dislodge Artemis from his customary sleeping spot beneath my feet. "Poor cat," I mumbled to myself. "It's not his fault I can't sleep." I beat the pillow a few times with my fist, but it was no use. It was a nice, expensive goose down pillow, but it might as well have been made out of bricks. I sighed and pushed the blankets off my body, then rose out of bed.   
  
"Maybe if I arrange my outfit for tomorrow, I'll feel better," I mused to myself. I flicked on the light switch and trudged wearily to my walk in closet. I tried on outfit after outfit, finding satisfaction in none. After I reached the end of the last rack of dresses, I sighed in mental and physical exhaustion.   
  
I wish I could be like a flower; they can look beautiful without any effort. A flower does not work on its appearance, apply makeup, walk in painful spiked heels or iron wrinkles out of skirts. I read a passage in the gospels where Jesus remarked on the lily. He said God clothed the grass with petals, and the lilies never put forth any effort to be beautiful. They simply draw their nutrients from the soil and stretch upward to the sun. Lilies are there one day and gone the next, passing without a thought. Who remembers something that is past its prime, its life energy long since extinguished? Who pays memorial to a phantom plant that disappears without a trace?  
  
Maybe that was my problem. Maybe I was afraid I would be forgotten. Why should that bother me, though? Didn't I want to be forgotten? The two sides warred against each other in my mind, the desire to love and be loved versus the will to be left alone to my own devices. Did I really want either?   
  
I knew that God loved me, and that my friends did as well. Somehow, it didn't feel like enough. I still felt hollow, empty, and painfully alone. I felt like I was missing a piece of me, like someone had walked away with a part of me. My pain was like a bullet, piercing through flesh, and bone, taking a chunk of me with it. I didn't have to think long to realize that it was Kunzite that had wounded me in this way.   
  
Without my realizing it, Kunzite had worked his way deep into my heart. I was missing him so much that I was going crazy. Didn't I know better by then not to let people get too close? Didn't I realize that I would get hurt? I chastised my foolish heart; it was solely to blame. What good was a heart anyways when they are so easily broken?   
  
"I'll stay celibate, Lord," I prayed. "I'll quit men forever. I'll say goodbye to the love between a man and a woman. What good is it to me now? You're the only guy I need." I felt my resolve harden within me like flesh covering a wound. I would put a wall around my heart, six feet thick and a mile high. Nobody would ever hurt me again. I walked out of the closet and shut the door, whistling "What's Love Got to Do With it" until I reached my bedroom again. I shut my eyes and pulled the covers over my body once more. Slowly, I drifted off, but even in my sleep, I knew I wasn't fully convinced yet.   
  
I woke up early the next morning, groggy and sluggish. Remembering last night, the mists of sleep cleared out of my brain. I remembered the promise I had made to myself then, to forsake love. Doubt crept into my bones and poured salt into my wounds. I couldn't just abandon my feelings; they were a part of me. All I could do was control what I did with those feelings. I'd always believe in love. Even if I never found it here on Earth, I'd still have the memory of it, what it felt like, what it did to me on the inside. It was silly, really; I felt like I was a long ago princess mourning for her lost prince. I forced a smile on my face and splashed some cold water on my face to perk myself up. This damsel refuses to be in distress.  
  
I made one last sweep with the mascara wand and picked up a brunette wig. "What am I holding this thing for?" I asked myself. "It must be some kind of reflex." If all went according to plan, I'd never need to use any of my wigs anymore. Maybe I should donate them to charity; then again, there's always Halloween.   
  
I laughed to myself and went into the kitchen. Artemis stalked up to my ankles confidently, his tail shaped like a question mark. "Yes, I know, little one. You're hungry, aren't you," I said, but I knew before I heard his plaintive meow that the answer was yes. Silly cat...if he had his way, he would be fed every time I came into the kitchen. I bent down and scratched between his ears, then he shook his furry little head as if he was shaking something off. "Silly kitty," I mumbled. His head seemed to be shrinking...nah; he's probably just gotten fat. I grinned down at him and ran my fingers across his silky back. It figures that he'd get a little chunky; I spoil that cat rotten.   
  
I went over the questions in my head that would be asked at the press conference as I poured kitty kibble into Artemis's food dish. "Why would you do such a thing? Do you have any regrets? Seriously, why?" I shook my head at myself...I knew the questions would get very redundant after a few minutes. I gave Artemis one final pat on the head, but he wasn't paying me any attention. He was still eating. "Goofy cat," I said, shaking my finger at the chubby feline. "No wonder you're getting fat." I hoped that I wouldn't get fat; if I don't model, I don't have to look perfect. I can look like an ordinary young woman...but did I really want to? I frowned as I switched the last padlock on my front door. I really didn't know.  
  
As I drove my inconspicuous little VW Beetle down the street, well, as inconspicuous as anything that's yellow can be, I saw a fancy blue car accelerating behind me. What was with this guy? I was going the speed limit, for heaven's sake! I laid into my horn a few times for good measure, and then switched to another lane. Who did this jerk think he was, anyways? And why did this seem so...familiar? I adjusted my rear view mirror slightly; yes, I had seen that car before...but where? Maybe it was even a newer model; then again, maybe not. I didn't know much about cars, but I still couldn't shake this deep-rooted feeling of déjà vu in the pit of my stomach. It felt like a lunch gone badly. I racked my brains for the last time I had seen a sky blue PT Cruiser, but an annoying sound coming from outside of my car jolted me out of my stupor. "Hey, you jerk! Can't you see I was in deep recollection?" I rolled down my window, prepared to shake my fist at the horn blaster as he or she pulled up beside me, then I sucked in my breath. Platinum blond hair, icy blue eyes, tan skin, muscular build...no, it couldn't be him...could it? "It has to be someone else," my frantic brain ground out, "It just has to."  
  
"Hey," said Kunzite. "It's been awhile."  
  
I ground my teeth and stared straight ahead, pretending I didn't recognize him. I wasn't about to give Kunzite the satisfaction of my time; I was far too upset with him. It seemed to take hours for the stoplight to turn green, but when it finally did, I pushed down on the accelerator hard. I had to get away from him, and fast! I clenched my hands on the steering wheel as I watched the odometer creep up. I didn't realize how fast I was going until I reached ten kilometers over the speed limit. Oops...guess I forgot about cruise control.   
  
I relaxed my stiff muscles and eased back into the speed limit, trying to ignore the fancy blue car creeping up behind me. "Oh no, he is not following me. That's it, I'm going to park my car right here." I pressed the brake pedal gently and cruised into the parking lot. It was still early, so spaces were plentiful. I chose the one closest to the entrance and switched the car into park. "There, that was easy enough," I said, looking around. There were no blue cars in sight...good. That idiot finally found himself a clue.   
  
I strolled into the building, where ten news stations, five newspapers and God only knew how many magazine reporters were waiting for me. I sucked in a deep breath and said a brief prayer. "Here goes nothing," I thought.  
  
I stepped up to the podium, ignoring the steady flashing of camera bulbs blurring my peripheral vision. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," I began, using my best speaking voice. "You're probably wondering why I called you all here today. I know you'll have a lot of questions, so I'll make this brief. I'm resigning from Tokyo Inc., effective as of today." I paused, relishing the collective gasp of the audience. A cub reporter even dropped their clipboard. I grinned to myself; this was exactly the reaction I had anticipated. "So, any questions?" I asked, flashing my trademark smile that had made me famous so many years ago.  
  
"Yes, I have one," said a shrill female voice. I looked down imperiously as she pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her bony nose. She held out a microphone that read "Channel 14 News." "Does your agency know about your decision?"  
  
"I have informed Tokyo Inc. of my decision two weeks ago."  
  
"Did anyone ask you to stay?" the channel 14 reporter pressed.  
  
"Well, yes, and I understand where they're coming from. I couldn't have quit at a worse time," I admitted, smiling graciously. "Rising Sun just made the final bid on the Venus cosmetics line. They were not pleased," I ended. Well, actually, that was putting it mildly. They were royally pissed, and their agent called me every four-lettered name under the sun, none of them particularly nice. I smiled as I remembered his face turning red as he finally ran out of profanity.  
  
"You're finished, Venus," he hissed through his teeth. "You'll never work in this town again."  
  
"Well, that's the idea," I had said, flashing him a cool, confident grin. I felt his gaze burn into my back as I left the room.   
  
"You can't do this, Venus! You'll regret it!" he shouted.  
  
"Not likely," I thought, grinning from ear to ear. Softly and calculated, I shut the door, showing that blistering idiot that I was in control. I whistled as I cleared the hallway, drawing the interested glances of several coworkers. They hadn't seen me that happy in a long time, and they never would again.  
  
"Have they given you any compensation?" asked a man from People magazine; pushing a microphone up to my lips and bringing my focus back to the present.  
  
"Yes, actually," I said. "I've received 4.6 billion yen's worth of stock options." I knew that this was a gift from God; now I would have more than enough to support both my mother and myself. It was quite the little nest egg.  
  
"How did you pull that off?" asked a reporter from USA Today.   
  
"God only knows," I conceded, smiling. "Any other questions?"  
  
"Yes, I have one," said a deep voice coming from the back of the room. "Do you have any regrets? I know I do."  
  
I scratched my head. Well, this was getting rather personal, and I was about to say so when the owner of the voice stepped forward. "Dammit, Kunzite, you have the worst timing!" I heard the sound of multiple pencils scratching against papers. I smacked my head against my forehead, immediately regretting my outburst of emotion. Not only was this a press conference, no, the press conference, this was Japan, for heaven's sakes. Such outbursts simply aren't done in public.   
  
"Tell me about it," he said, smiling that darned moronic grin of his that I loved and hated at the same time.  
  
"Can't you see this isn't the time to talk? In front of the reporters?" I hissed, grating my teeth.   
  
"I don't care," he said. "I have nothing to hide, and neither do you. I've been stupid, really stupid."  
  
"No shinola," I mumbled, my body shaking with a strange combination of anger and hope. My emotions tore at my resolve; I didn't know whether to smack him silly or kiss the daylights out of him. Confused, my body stood still at a stalemate. "Why should I even be talking to you? You blew it big time, pal," I said, narrowing my eyes in a way that I hoped was convincing. "What do you have to say to that?" I put my hands on my hips, ignoring the clicking of many camera shutters. "Fine. Let them click away for all I care," I thought.  
  
"Just this," he said, walking forward until he was behind the podium with me, standing off to my left. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"  
  
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I felt my control shatter. How could he do this to me? Where was my practiced calm, my smiling mask? He was destroying it with his honesty. I tried to stiffen my posture again, to work up the old anger, but it wasn't in me anymore. I wanted to stay mad at him, really I did. I just couldn't do it; it was no use. "You idiot," I said, giving him a wobbly smile and pulling him in. I planted my lips on his, right there, in the midst of all the nosy reporters and pushy photographers. I didn't care, and I kissed Kunzite for all it was worth, gently at first, then with all of the pent-up love I had been holding back for months.  
  
"I take it you forgive me?" he gasped as I pulled away, his eyes shining with so much that I had to look away.  
  
"Of course, you fool," I whispered.  
  
"Well, I think I need more convincing," he returned, cupping my jaw in his hands. There were no reporters or photographers, at least not anymore. There was just Kunzite and I, and it was enough.   
  
"Feel better?" I asked, smiling with my eyes this time. I looked deep into his; I could see forever in the resplendent blue orbs, like clear skies and sunny days. He nodded, and I heard the sound of clapping all around us. I wanted to stay there in his arms for the rest of my life, and I realized that I could. Nothing would ever separate us again.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Kunzite asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure." He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I smiled. He eased his car into park, and I looked up at a large flat that had haunted me for years. I clenched my jaw and strengthened my resolve. Together, we walked up the stairs until we reached apartment 20B. I sighed; this wasn't going to be easy.   
  
"You okay, Minako?"  
  
"No, but I will be," I said, giving him a shaky grin. I had to do this, or I would never be free. I knocked tentatively on the door, then waited for the inevitable.  
  
A tall, skinny blonde answered the door, still in her stocking feet. "Minako?" she asked unsteadily, her gaze wavering.  
  
"Mother," I said, nodding curtly. I sucked in a deep breath, and Kunzite gave my hand another squeeze.   
  
"Who is this young man?" Mom said, smiling. "He's quite a dish."  
  
"This is Kunzite Feldspar," I said. "But that's not why we came here."  
  
"Well, it must be important for you to come all the way over to England. Come in, have some tea," she said, motioning to the inside of her home. It was the same flat she had lived in when I first started Tokyo Inc.; she had never left.   
  
One glance into the living room that lay straight ahead told me that nothing had changed. Rumpled blankets dotted the floor and half empty cups of coffee lined the couch. All of the painful memories came rushing back in a tidal wave; Mom making me tea and cookies, mom reading the paper, mom watching TV with her eyes glazed over, mom drinking her vodka until she passed out on the couch. My throat constricted, and I couldn't breathe.   
  
"No, I'll be fine out here," I said after a long, awkward pause.  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning, her true self coming to the surface.  
  
"Yeah," I said, shifting my feet and looking at the floor, anything to avoid her accusing eyes or the sight of her sloppy apartment. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. "I've come to tell you that you're moving to America." I paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I've arranged for you to live in River Knolls. It's nice; you'll like it there."  
  
"And what kind of place is this River Knolls?" she asked, and I could feel her eyebrows arching in question.  
  
"It's a...rest home," I stammered.  
  
"You're sending me to a mental institution?" she yelled.  
  
"Shh, you'll disturb your neighbors," I said, knowing that it was useless to admonish her at that point. Fine. Let her be mad. "You'll pack your bags tomorrow; the plane will leave at four thirty, just after tea time, with you in it," I said, finally looking her in the eye.  
  
"But I'm your mother," she said, clasping my hands. "You can't do this to me."  
  
For a moment, I wavered. Hadn't there been good times? My mind took me back thirteen years ago, and I remembered the good days, when the liquor was far from her. I saw Mom and I watching Partridge Family reruns, telling ghost stories, laughing in the dark, like the shadows couldn't hurt us. But they did; slowly, but surely, Mom's mental illness swallowed us whole. I couldn't pretend like it didn't affect me anymore.  
  
"You're not my mother," I said, gathering courage, "and you never were. Sure, you gave birth to me, but your parenting stopped there. I don't hate you; you couldn't help yourself. Besides, you'll be safe in River Knolls. I think you'll like it there," I said, smiling stiffly.  
  
"Bloody hell," she swore, stamping her feet. "That's gratitude for you."  
  
"Indeed," I said, grinning. Finally, it was over. "Well, I'll send men to help you along in the morning." I pivoted on my heel and left. I didn't want to hurt her, but she was only hurting herself by staying in this dilapidated flat. At least she would be well supervised in River Knolls; I had done some research on it. It was one of the best mental institutions in the world. Maybe there she would find peace.  
  
"Wait," she said. "You never told me exactly who this Kunzite fellow is. Is he your boyfriend or something?"  
  
I smiled, and I knew everything would be okay. I would finally be able to put my past behind me, behind us. I gave Kunzite a quick peck on the cheek, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. I smiled genuinely, the first time I was able to do so in her presence for years. I turned around, and then said casually over my shoulder like it didn't matter what she thought, "He's my fiancée."   
  
It was true; Kunzite proposed last week. We're getting married in a month and a half. I know it might sound rushed, but I knew I was going to marry him at the press conference. There was no way I was ever letting that man out of my sight again.  
  
It was just the right occasion for a proposal. Ami and Zoisite had just gotten married, and we were ushered into a huge, fancy ballroom for the reception. A huge but tasteful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light like a disco ball. There was an ice sculpture of two lovers, a knight from long ago and his beautiful princess. They sat amongst the reflections, the knight embracing the woman, and the woman looked out contentedly. The sculpture was so well done that it was hard to believe they weren't real people.   
  
Surrounding the sculpture was a lavish collection of fruit tarts, baklava, miniature chocolate éclairs, strawberries dipped in chocolate and a cheese ball with bell shaped crackers. I hovered there for a while, taking it all in and reveling in the fact that I could actually eat the hors d' oeuvres, instead of just gawking at them. I happily grabbed a plate and got started on the strawberries.  
  
My gorging was interrupted by a deep voice saying ahem very loudly. "Hello, Kunzite," I said, smiling. We had just started dating like normal couples do, without being interrupted by the yakuza. He was about as close to the perfect boyfriend as was humanly possible. He sent me roses, fragrant orange ones with velvety petals. He was consistently on time for our dates, and he always took me to someplace special, no casinos, of course. We've been to art films, operas, poetry readings, miniature golfing, arcades, go carting, and he even took me horseback riding, something I'd always wanted to try. We'd also attend church together with Levina. Every time he took me out, he'd tell me how much he loved me and how beautiful he thought I was. I had never felt so loved, so special, so happy.  
  
"Hey yourself," I said, grinning. "What do you think of this spread, huh?"  
  
"It's almost as beautiful as you," he replied, taking my hand.  
  
"Oh, stop, you're going to give me a swelled head," I said, blushing.  
  
"Then it would be the loveliest swelled head in all of Tokyo," he returned.  
  
"You mush ball," I said. "Want to dance?"  
  
A slow waltz played in the background, and he nodded. I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled. "This is so nice," I murmured in his ear.  
  
"Mm-hmm," was the reply that I felt from within his chest. I closed my eyes and swayed with the music. I never wanted this moment to end.   
  
After a long, comfortable silence, he whispered, "I have a question I want to ask you, Minako."  
  
"Mmm?" I mumbled dreamily.  
  
He drew back slightly, and my body cried out for his warmth. He fished for something deep within his pocket, and my heart beat faster in anticipation. "Kunzite, what are you doing?"  
  
He didn't answer, at least not in words. He pulled out a small, black box and got down on one knee.   
  
I didn't even give him a chance to answer. "Yes," I said quietly.  
  
He arched his eyebrow. "But I haven't even said anything yet," he pouted.  
  
"Okay, fine," I said, grinning.  
  
"Minako, these past few months without you have felt like an eternity. I thought I could leave you, but it proved impossible. I can't bear the thought of us being apart again. I want to see your face every morning, for all of my days. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"  
  
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I smiled tremulously. "Of course. Do you really think I'd let you get away?"  
  
He shook his head and stood to face me. "Minako?"  
  
I wondered what question he could possibly have; hadn't he already asked the most important one? I arched my eyebrows and waited for the other shoe to drop.  
  
"Can I kiss you?" he asked.  
  
That was all I needed. I yanked his body to mine and planted my lips on his. He gave out a little gasp in surprise, and then he joined right in. With every second, I felt his growing confidence as well as my own, that this was so right. He drew back, his eyes clouded with passion. "I love you, Minako Aino."  
  
I couldn't say anything against the lump that had risen up my throat, but I didn't have to. My eyes gave me away.  
  
We walked slowly out of the flat, and I let out a grateful sigh when we left. "Are you okay?" asked Kunzite, bringing me back to the present. "You've been awfully quiet."  
  
"Yeah," I said, and I meant it.  
  
As he opened the passenger side door for me and I slid into the car, I felt really lucky, no, blessed, to have him in my life, to share all of my days, both good and bad.   
  
I still have Artemis. He has a little kitty bed next to the fireplace, where he sleeps most of the time. The little furrball had really grown on me; after all, if it weren't for Artemis, I would have never met Kunzite. Then where would I be? I don't know, but where I am now is so brilliant and filled with rainbows and light that I wouldn't go back for the world. I look forward to the future. Maybe I'll have his children someday, God willing. They'd be beautiful, well, if they looked anything like me, anyways...just kidding. No matter what, I knew that we'd have each other, a blessing from God. I couldn't ask for more.   
  
THE END 


End file.
